


It's Fine

by 80slieberher



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Kinda?, M/M, Oh also, a big miss steak, abuse mention, alcohol mention, but i post her anyway, cheating warning, dissociating, god that all makes this fic seem sO angsty, i actually hate this fic, i think thats all, it was a mistake, its not its a piece of shit, its so poorly written, mental illness mention, reddie is endgame dont be fooled, sort of..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 23:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13557432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/80slieberher/pseuds/80slieberher
Summary: [Modern a.u] Several months after the incident, Richie Tozier convinces himself that he feels fine, that it’s fine. Everything is fine. But memories and old-feelings surface almost constantly in Richie’s distracted head, seemingly for the sole purpose of making him subconsciously wonder: Is it really fine at all?





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> so this started as a quote ask-meme one shot but then it got reallyyyy long before it was even a quarter way over so i was like lol its a fic now. (“I’m so sick of falling asleep without you”). this is like kind of based on some anon posts i saw talking abt reddie cheating and the aftermath of that - like that’s where i got the idea for it. i dont know if anyone ever actually wrote it so im gonna write it but like i want to give proper credit so if anyone knows what im talking about please lmk! it just been a minute since i saw those posts so i dont know who’s blog they're on or anything really specific abt them!  
> -  
> those r my notes from my tumblr but uhhh i dont rlly know why im posting this fic here because i HATE IT but people seem to like it. imo its poorly written and its old and i dont want it to reflect on me as an author because its disgusting and i learned so much between now and i when i was writing this. i have to write the last chapter still and thatll probably be trash just for the sake of consistency but yeah after that i dont wanna hear A Word about this fic ever again tbh

Richie sits on the front porch steps of his house, the lonesome feel of the cloudy atmosphere matching his mood. The frigid air makes his fingers numb, but he ignores it, warm cigarette in hand. The smoke blows easily from his mouth, mixing with the heat of his breath and fogging up the front of his glasses a bit. He rubs it away once he hears his phone chime in his pocket. He looks at his phone a fifth time in the last 20 minutes.

\- (3:43 pm) Stan My Man: I just got off work

\- (3:43 pm) Stan My Man: Wanna come over?

\- (3:57 pm) Stan My Man: Hellooo?

\- (4:02 pm) Stan My Man: I see you reading my texts, asshole. Are you feeling okay?

Richie sighs. He doesn’t like lying to his boyfriend, but over text he can’t see Stan’s beautiful, innocent eyes looking up into him and willing him to tell the truth, as if he could see right through Richie. Richie thinks about what to respond.

\- (4:04 pm) Me: yeah, i’m okay, just a little distracted lmao u know how it is

\- (4:04 pm) Stan My Man: You’re a shitty liar, but if you want to be left alone your wish is my command. I do want to see you, though

Richie takes another moment to think. Does he want to be alone? Lately he’s relished in his alone-time. Hanging out with his friends is emotionally draining unless Eddie isn’t there. 

When Eddie isn’t there, he doesn’t feel eyes piercing the back of his head. He doesn’t feel the pressure to wordlessly gloat his relationship, as if it were some sort of token that came out of Eddie cheating on him so many months ago. He doesn’t catch glimpses of glares aimed at Stan. His Stan. His lovely, wonderful, amazing Stan. 

When Eddie isn’t there, Richie feels okay. He feels like he isn’t just with Stan for revenge. And he isn’t. He can’t figure out why he feels that way when Eddie’s around.

_He never loved you, you dumb fuck. He cheated on you. And I’ll never go back to a cheater._

\- (4:07 pm) Me: no, honestly, i really don’t want to be alone right now. wanna see if the gang wants to do smth? been up in my feelings n i needa let loose

\- (4:08 pm) Stan My Man: As long as I get to see you, it’s whatever you wanna do, tbh

Richie smiles lopsidedly. Stan always knows how to give him butterflies.

\- (4:08 pm) Me: i’ll see what he’s up to n let u kno

Richie swipes out of his messages with Stan, not having to scroll far to find the Losers group chat. 

\- (4:09 pm) Me: wassup fuckers

\- (4:09 pm) Me: lets go fuck shit whos down

\- (4:10 pm) Mike n Ike: I am if u have something in mind

\- (4:10 pm) Ben that Boi: ^^^ Second that

\- (4:10 pm) Me: nope we gotta brainstorm fellas

\- (4:11 pm) Stan My Man: Don’t hurt yourself, there, buddy

\- (4:11 pm) Me: i wont hesitate to send our sexts here, stanley

\- (4:11 pm) edward kaspbrak.: literally all of us would prefer if you didn’t do that

\- (4:12 pm) Bev-im-not-sure-where-we-stand-erly: yeAh im dtf whats the moves

\- (4:12 pm) Me: BILL WHERE ARE YOU WE NEED YOU TO MAKE OUR PLANS FOR US

\- (4:13 pm) BIG BILL!!!: hi

\- (4:13 pm) Me: DAD. 

\- (4:14 pm) BIG BILL!!!: the plan is everyone meet at the quarry in 15 minutes 

\- (4:15 pm) Me: u heard the man soliders last one there gets thrown in

Richie tucks his phone into his back pocket swiftly, getting up with a light smile playing on his features. He hurries to his beat up red pick-up truck, knowing he’ll have to pick up Stan - who so conveniently lives in the opposite direction of the quarry.

He hits the gas, definitely going over the speed limit, but on this dreary Derry Saturday there didn’t seem to be a person around to care. He lets his thoughts be consumed by the music on the radio.

Within minutes he’s at Stan’s house, Stan waiting, sitting on his own front porch steps. He’s looking up into the tree in his yard (presumably at a bird), multicolored scarf tucked around his cheeks and mouth, his curls sticking out from under a red hat with a puff at the end that was pulled over his ears, and his hands shoved into his marshmallow-jacket’s pockets. 

“Hey, hot stuff,” Richie calls from his window. It seems to startle Stan and Richie notices a bird fly out of the tree. Stan gets up, and grin replaced the startled look. “Hurry up, babe, I’d really rather not have Mike throw us into the quarry,” He jokes as Stan climbs into the passenger seat. Richie leans in to peck his cute boyfriend on the lips before pulling out of the driveway.

At 4:27, they pull off the road and onto the grass of the quarry, both of them scrambling out of the car.

Yes!” Richie exclaims, taking in account the lack of 2 of what should be five other Losers. Mike, Beverly, and Bill are all sat on the rocks, hugging their coats close to them. “Good news, we’re not last, baby!” He turns to face Stan, still getting out of the car fifteen feet behind him.

Richie smiles and looks back to where the other losers sit. His eyes focus on Beverly through his thick glasses, and he begins to think again as he waits for Stan to catch up.

_“Richie! I’m sorry!” Eddie calls up to Richie through his window, “I was drunk! I didn- didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, I love you!”_

_Richie grits his teeth. “Didn’t mean to my fucking ass,” He seethes, refusing to go to his window. Eddie had kept this up for the past week, even though he knew Richie couldn’t bare to see his face and would rather be strangled by a clown than hear his voice anymore._

Stan catches up with Richie, and he’s temporarily taken out of his thoughts for long enough to grab the shorter boy’s mittened hand, swinging their arms as they closed the distance between themselves and their friends. Richie likes to look happier than he feels. His mind changes memories.

_It’s a month after Eddie stopped coming to Richie’s window, and Richie is feeling a little better - if only for his emotional support system and best friend named Stanley Uris._

_Richie’s just gotten back from Stan’s house when his phone rings, ‘beverly marsh.’ lighting up the screen along with the picture he forgot to delete of her laughing and smoking a cigarette. Richie debates answering it, just staring at his phone for a few rings. He grunts, letting his finger slide to answer._

_“Hello?” He speaks, his voice coming out a lot more casual than he felt._

_“Hey, uh, Tra- Richie, it’s Beverly. I’m not sure if you, like, might’ve deleted my number… Or something, I don’t know-,” The voice on the other line rambles. Richie notes that deleting her number from his phone would’ve been a better petty move than simply changing her contact name._

_Richie interrupts her, “Yeah, I know it’s you.” He doesn’t let his voice sound of any of the emotions he’s feeling. Richie’s come to be good at that - years of practice._

_“Oh, ah, okay, cool,” She responds. He can practically see her anxiously chewing her lip, the way she always did before a big decision. He knows important things make the carefree girl nervous._

_“So why’d you call?” He asks, and he really had tried not to sound so bitter, but that’s the way it came out and he wasn’t about to make any moves to correct it._

_“Well, uh, I’m on the roof of the arcade. Can you meet me here, to, like, talk? Cigarettes on me,” She adds the last part with a small chuckle, and Richie almost smiles. Almost._

_“Sure, I’ll, uh, be there in 5.” He hangs up._

“H-how are you not fuh-f-fucking freezing?” Bill’s question is directed to Richie, motioning to his normal attire simply adorned by a red sweatshirt, pulling him away from his thoughts again.

“A hoe never gets cold,” He answers with a shrill Bronx Voice and a twirl, and the other losers give him the always accompanying laugh. He pulls Stan to sit on his lap after he sits on the rock next to Bill. “So what’s the plan Billy Boy?”

“I d-didn’t c-count on it-t being this c-cold,” Bill stutters, in part due to his teeth chattering, “I th-think once B-Ben and uh, y-yeah, once they guh-g-get here, we sh-should go back to m-my house.”

“Ah, Big Bill, I love you - but you needn’t be so gentle with me.” Richie half-heartedly does a British Voice and looks at Bill with a soft smile and equally soft eyes. He appreciates Bill’s effort. “You can say his name. Look, I’ll say it,” Richie says confidently, closing his eyes and cocking his head to the right matter-of-factly, “Eddie. Edward Kaspbrak.”

“What?” A high-pitched voice startles him, making his eyes pop open quickly and him freeze up for a moment. “Not talking shit about me, are you guys?” Eddie looks at the group sarcastically with his eyebrows raised, his arms crossed over a marshmallow coat similar to Stan’s.

“Nope, not talking about you at all,” Richie answers coolly despite feeling at loss for words. No, no. Eddie wasn’t the one who could make him speechless anymore. Richie wraps his arms tighter around Stan’s waist and places a gentle kiss on his warm cheek. Well, what his lips could reach of Stan’s cheek, it ended up more by his eye. Richie feels Eddie stand and stare, but ignores it.

“Hey, Eddie,” Mike swoops in to save the day, eliminating the awkward air, “We were just about to go to Bill’s, we’re just waiting on Ben.”

Eddie giggles, taking a seat next to Mike. “Are you gonna throw him in, Mikey?”

Richie buries his face farther into Stan’s cloth covered neck.  _Because I’m cold. I’m cold._

“I don’t know, I’m pretty cold, I can’t imagine how cold the water is, and don’t you think Henry Bowers put Ben through enough last year? I think he deserves a year without suffering, honestly,” Mike laughs.

“Yeah, ‘guess you’re right,” Eddie laughs back.

“Henry Bowers put us all through a lot last year, I’m just thanking fuck that he’s gone and graduated. Who knew that deadbeat would ever leave Derry?” Stan chimes in, it’s muffled by his scarf (and partly Richie’s hair), but the group understands and chuckles along anyway. Richie lifts his eyes and spares a glance at Eddie. He’s not laughing - not even a smile on his face. Richie puts his head back down.

“I wish Ben would hurry the fuck up. I love him, but what the fuck is he doing?” He hears Beverly say into the silence that froze among the teens. He nodded in agreement before returning to his earlier thoughts.

_A shaky breath escapes his lips as Richie jumps out of his truck and lands on the warm pavement outside the arcade. So many more memories here._

_He glances behind him to see the late-July sun setting before walking gingerly to the ladder leading to the roof and beginning to climb. He tries his best to keep his cool. Deep breaths, deep breaths, count to ten._

_“Hey,” Beverly greets as he reaches the top, pulling himself over and joining her sitting on the ledge._

_“Hey,” He says, not making eye contact, opting to stare at his red all-stars hanging some tens of feet above the ground. He looks off at the horizon, admiring how prettily the sun set on shut the shitty little town. “What’d you wanna talk about?” He tries to stop fidgeting his fingers._

_“I mean, I just,” She sighs, “I know things are wrong. Between me and you. And, like, Eddie, too, but I think that’s something you and him have to work out by yourselves. What I mean is-,”_

_“Don’t get your hopes up, I think I might avoid him until the end of time,” Richie interrupts her, outstretching his arms behind him and leaning back on his hands. “Let me bum a cig off ya?” He asks. She obliges, taking one out of the pack in her pocket and lighting it for him before handing it over. He takes a long drag. He still hasn’t looked at her. He’s not sure if he can._

_They’re quiet for a moment. Richie knows she’s waiting for him to look at her, and yet he refuses. Richie likes to think he’s done giving people the satisfaction. “I hope the sun burns my eyes to dust so that I never have to see him again, either.”_

_“You don’t mean that,” She answers, and he sees her looking up at him from the corner of his eye. He sighs, giving in to his once best friend, turning his head to the left._

_“I do,” He smirks, blowing smoke at her nose, “In fact; I think I can feel them burning out right now. Perfect.”_

_She lightly shoves him playfully, chuckling quietly. “But seriously, Richie, I don’t think this is worth it - for any of us.”_

_Richie lies on his back and looks up at the pale orange-pink sky. “What do you mean?” He takes another drag, blowing smoke straight up._

_“This whole cold shoulder thing,” She crosses her legs as she turns around to face him. “You’ve only hung out with Stan for the past almost two months. I know you’re mad at me and would probably rather kill yourself than see Eddie anytime soon but what about Bill, Mike, and Ben? Aren’t they worth your time?”_

_“I talk to them, sometimes.” Richie bluffs. Not a total lie. He interacted with them on social media on occasion. That had to count for something._

_“Instagram comments don’t count, Rich.” She practically reads his mind. He sighs._

_“Why did you ask me to come here, Bev? So you could tell me about how much Bill and Mike and Ben miss me?” Richie scoffs his question. He’s so easily irritated nowadays._

_“Look,” She closes her eyes and takes what sounds like a deep breath. Richie doesn’t know - he’s pretending to be particularly interested in the pink tinted clouds. “I miss you. A lot, okay? I know the shit that happened that night was fucked up, and the three of us were all drunk and said and did things we didn’t mean-,”_

_There’s that fucking phrase again. Didn’t mean. Didn’t mean to._

_“Didn’t mean my fucking ass, Beverly,” Richie sat up suddenly, making Bev flinch. “Sorry,” He said, sheepishly, noticing. “It just makes me really fucking mad when I hear that. Eddie yelled it to me so many times I wanted to throw a rock down at him - and I’ve never wanted to hurt that boy in my life. Not even after he hurt me.” He took another long drag and looked over the edge again at the ground below. He wonders if the fall would be far enough to kill him. Probably not._

_“You can’t say that,” She disagrees, “Otherwise you’d be saying that you meant it when you called me all those names - all those things about being a slut. Said those things about my dad and his abuse. Punched me. Do you remember that, Richie?” There’s a bitter undertone in her voice now, and Richie feels his cheeks heat up._

_“Um, no, actually, but now I feel like shit. I don’t remember a lot from that night. After I ran away from my house I went to Luke’s - you know, the guy me and you would party with sometimes - and he let me have this big ass bottle of vodka and stay over there and, uh, yeah. In the morning I found it empty and I felt how my mom looks all the time,” He tries to laugh it off._

_He doesn’t like telling that story, it makes him feel ashamed. Especially the last part. ‘Like my mom,’ He repeats in the back of his mind, trying to lock away the thought._

_“I’m sorry. I guess you’re right then,” He sighs, “I didn’t mean that. And I’m sorry I punched you, too, I didn’t mean that, either. Like, really,_ really _fucking sorry.”_

_“I forgive you. I’m sorry I made out with Eddie. Eddie’s sorry, too. But I guess that’s something for him to tell you himself, isn’t it?” She looks at him with a face that’s sad yet hopeful. Something more sodden then puppy dog eyes, but no tears or frowns._

_“I think it’ll take more than a rooftop talk to get me to forgive him. But I forgive you, Bev. Thank you.”_

“Fucking finally!” Bev yells, snapping Richie out of his thoughts once again.  _Fuck, how long was I zoned out for?_

He looks up to see Ben pulling in in his little, dark green car. The rest of the group starts getting up, Stan getting off of Richie’s lap and tugging at his arm to pull him up. Richie’s still a little hazy.

“W-we’re going t-to my hou-house,” He hears Bill instruct to Ben at his car window.

“Why didn’t you just text me that? I would’ve just met you guys there,” Ben asks.

“It’s dangerous to text and drive, Benny!” Richie chimes in, “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt, with a cute lil face like yours! Be a shame to get it all scratched up,” He teased, Ben laughing.

The losers get into their cars, and Richie reminisces about times they used to ride their bikes everywhere, even when it was below freezing. He turns on the heat and sees Stan grow more comfortable in the corner of his eye. His heart melts.

They drive in calm silence for a while. Maybe Stan was rubbing off on Richie - who usually never shuts up. But then again, maybe it’s just Richie’s mood today.

“I don’t like when Eddie looks at us like that,” Stan breaks the quiet, “It makes me feel… I don’t know. It makes me insecure that he hates us so much.”

“He can suck it up. We’re in love, and I don’t give a fuck about what he thinks about it. It’s kind of funny to me, actually.” Richie smirks, loose grip on the wheel tightening a bit.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll always find it funny when he gets his panties in a twist over dumb shit.”  _That’s not why. I don’t know why. I can’t tell you why. I don’t know why._

“Hmm,” Stan replies, Richie looks over long enough to see Stan’s mouth flatten into a hard line, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, but let me add, I still kind of prefer when he’s not there. Sure, it’s funny and I don’t give a fuck, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like feeling like I can’t protect you from all his mean looks and shit, and, like, when he blatantly ignores you,  _that_  makes me mad. He doesn’t have any reason to be upset with you and he knows it.”

“That kind of answers my question,” Stan blushes.

“What was it?” Richie asks, meanwhile swerving onto Bill’s street and stopping in front of his house, putting the vehicle in park. He faces Stan.

“I was gonna ask if you were only with me because you, like, wanted to mess with Eddie. It’s stupid, I know, just the way you said that thing about it being funny-,”

“Stan, listen to me,” Richie grabs his boyfriend’s hands. The mittens are off now, stuffed into his pockets. “I love you, not him. It doesn’t matter what he thinks about us - because I want everyone to know how much I love you all the time. I’d yell it from every rooftop if you’d let me.” Richie smiles, cracking a joke but speaking genuinely. How does Stan bring out this side of him? He doesn’t know.

“I love you, too, Richie. Now let’s go, Bill agreed to let me pick the movie and I’m gonna put on something you’ll hate.” Stan smiles somewhat evilly - but no expression made by Stanley Uris could ever look evil. So it was really just a lopsided, teasing grin.

Richie lets Stan’s hands go so he can climb out of the car, Richie climbing out as well and rejoining his hand with Stan’s as they walk to the door together. “Hey, Stan? One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you more.”

“We might be a PDA couple, but we are not about to be that couple.”

“Aw! You didn’t even give it a chance.”

Stan sighs. “No! I love  _you_  more!”

“Adorable!”

When they enter the door, Richie notes that it seems like the rest of the losers have beat them there. He scans the room - only Eddie is missing.

“Where’s Eddie?” Stan asks innocently. Richie knows he still cares about Eddie as a friend - they were always close before everything happened. Richie curses the thought silently.  _Eddie doesn’t deserve Stan’s kindness - not while he’s being such a little bitch about everything._

“He ended up skipping out, Ben says lazy, not lifting his eyes from the spines of the DVDs he’s flicking through, “Apparently, all the times he’s been ditching us lately, he’s been with that guy… What’s his face, Mike? It’s whatever, though, we’ll see him at school tomorrow.”

“Andrew Dansmith,” Mike says for Ben, looking at the couple and smiling, “He’s on the team.”

Mike was referencing Derry High School’s football team - The Ducks. Richie always thought the name was more comedic than it was intimidating. Mike was junior captain - and their entire class loved him for it.

“Huh,” Richie shrugs, ignoring the odd feeling in his chest, “That’s good. Glad he’s moving on,” He throws a convincing smile down to Stan and squeezes his hand. Stan mimics the action before pulling him over to the loveseat to snuggle up together.

“Okay, guys, I told Stan he could pick the movie,” Bill announces, and Stan smiles triumphantly.

“The Notebook.”

The rest of the group groans simultaneously, especially Richie, but he nevertheless snakes an arm around Stan’s waist and pulls him closer, the curled-up boy quickly snuggling into his chest. Richie watches Ben find and slip in ‘The Notebook’, all of them settling down for another Losers’ day in - minus one.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back again uh i dont rlly have anything to say at the beginning of this chapter but forgive any sentences that have kind of weird structure or if i like randomly change tense! i’ve tried to edit all the places i’ve made mistakes but combing thru doesn’t always get it all out. verb tenses have always messed me up tbh and id say im a lot more used to writing in past tense but for this story i figured w the flashbacks it would make more sense to write the present part of the story actually in the present lol
> 
> also!! please actually read the song lyrics i did put them there for purpose they’re more than just something that’s background noise i’m using them as an important plot device and insight into richies true subconscious thoughts so!! dont skip them bc i know i personally always skip song lyrics lol
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter: Supermodel - SZA, Broken Clocks - SZA (yall r gonna be seeing a lot of songs from her album Ctrl because its a fkn break up / cheated on / mixed feelings BOP)

Richie is purposefully late to school the next day. His and Eddie’s lockers are unfortunately close - and even just the thought of Eddie makes Richie feel sick right now. Like he’ll throw up. He doesn’t know if he can bare to see the boy. So, he decides not to.

\- (8:11 am) Stan My Man: Are you coming today? First period is starting

\- (8:11 am) Me: yea, im skipping first tho, the thought of mrs benedict’s face is enough to make me wanna puke

_Not a total lie._

\- (8:13 am) Stan My Man: Okay, well text me when you’re here… I’ll see you at lunch, I love you ❤

Richie leaves his phone in the covers as he stretches and gets to his feet, making his way to get in the shower. He’s briefly sort of grateful that his parents don’t give a shit about him - no one to be on his back about skipping. He momentarily regrets what he said about Mrs. Benedict - he kind of liked her, and although she was always on him for goofing off, he knew she kind of liked him, too. He lets his mind unravel once again, drifting into another memory.

_“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from youuuu!” Eddie sang to Richie from the passenger seat of Richie’s red truck._

_Richie was familiar with this memory. He replayed it often. It was late summer - one of the youngest September days of the previous year, if Richie was recalling correctly. The beginning of their junior year._

_“There’s nothin’ that a hundred men or more could ever doooo!” Richie sang back to him, sparing a glance to his right as they glided down the empty road._

_“I bless the rains down in Africa, gonna take some time to do the things we never haaa-aa-ad! Ooo-woo!” They sang in unison with Toto, laughing all the way._

_They had all the windows down, and Richie knew then that the way Eddie looked in those short, stolen glances will forever be imprinted in his mind._

_Wind blowing his grown-out curls in every direction, eyes occasionally clenched closed while he belted lyrics, and other times open wide and twinkling, with a large, open-mouthed smile spread into his cheeks._

_This was Eddie Kaspbrak. The real Eddie Kaspbrak. And Richie held the key to seeing, knowing, loving him. And, shit, did Richie love him. He loved this moment - he felt on top of the world. Invincible._

Scrubbing shampoo out of his hair into the running water of the shower he was too big for, Richie rewinds the memory to earlier that night.

_“I know this thing has a slot for mixtapes, so I made this for you,” Eddie said bashfully, blushing as he handed the mixtape over to Richie. Richie’s lips fell open, eyes scanning over the writing on the cover of the mixtape. ‘Songs That Make Me Think About Richie Tozier’ was written in Eddie’s script._

_“Eds, I-”_

_“I’m sorry you’ll only be able to play it in here, but I thought it was a kind of funny, romantic, retro sort of gesture. There’s a lot of older songs on there - some from stuff I like and stuff you li-”_

_Richie cut off his rambling by capturing Eddie’s lips with his, moving the smaller boy’s chin up toward himself with his fingers softly._

_“Eds, I fucking love this. Thank you so, so much.” Richie replied sincerely when he broke away. “Now, get out, I’m actually here to pick up Mrs. K, where is she? We have a date tonight. Tell her I brought the cond-”_

_Eddie smacked Richie lightly upside the head before he could finish, interrupting him with an oh-so-familiar “Beep, beep, Richie,” before pulling Richie’s face down into another kiss over the middle console._

_“I love you, you trashmouth,” Eddie smiled as he pulled his head back down, his hands not leaving the sides of Richie’s face._

_“I love you, too, my Eddie Spaghetti.”_

“Fuck,” Richie hisses, wiping at his eye. No, he’s not crying. He doesn’t cry over Eddie anymore. It was - It was soap. Soap got in his eye.  _Yeah. Soap._

Richie slams the water off.

When he’s back in the solace of his room and dressed, he sits on his bed. He checks his phone. 8:27.

He makes a move to reach for the drawer of his bedside table, but hesitates.

 

He shakes his head, moving to pick up his phone instead.

Opening Spotify, he plugs in the aux cord on his bedside table to the cheap speaker he bought himself last month. With no one home and Richie not giving a fuck if he misses second period or not, he engages in his guilty pleasure. He sits still while the opening to the song he’s been obsessed with lately plays.

“ _I’m writing this letter to let you know, I’m really leavin’ and no, I’m not keepin’ your shit_ ,” Richie swooshes himself off the bed dramatically, closing his eyes and singing into an imaginary microphone.

“ _Heard you got some new homies, got some new hobbies, even a new hoe, too! Maybe she can come help you, maybe she come lick you, after we’re done - what’s done is done, I don’t want nothin’ else to do with it._ ” Richie continues to sing, eyes clenched tight, dancing around his messy room.

“ _Lemme tell you a secret, I been secretly bangin’ your homeboy! Why you in Vegas - all up on Valentine’s Day? Why am I so easy to forget like that?_ ” He sings to the ceiling now, voice loud, without a care. He yells the last line with particular feeling.

“ _It can’t be that easy for you to get like that. Ooh no she di’int! Ah, ooh, yes I did! Ooh no she di’int! I’ll do it again_ ,” Richie somewhat struggles to sing the back-up and the main chorus, but does it happily anyway, limbs still flailing to the music.

“ _Leave me, no, leave for prettier women. You know I need too much attention for shit like that, you know you wrong for shit like that!_ ” He hisses this part, feeling the emotions he’d been suppressing starting to bubble up to the surface.

“I could be your supermodel, if you believe… If you see in it me, see it in me, see it in me - I don’t see myself… Why I can’t stay alone, just by myself? Wish I was comfortable, just with myself - but I need you, but I need you, no, I need you…” He sings softly, opening his eyes and looking around.

Richie spends the next near hour ignoring the buzzes from his phone, simply singing and dancing to Sza. If anyone found out he liked and listened to this, he’s sure his friends would never let him hear the end of it. He has a cool, rock ‘n’ roll exterior image to maintain, and he’ll be damned if he gives that up because of his  _feelings_.

Richie elects to walk to school – the drive was always too quick. He forges himself a note excusing his lateness as a ‘family emergency’ before leaving, shoving it in his pocket and locking the door behind him.

To Richie’s disposition, the wind is harsh against his face – turning his cheeks red.  _I’m either not a hoe or not cold._  He pulls his coat tighter to his body and wishes he owned things like scarves and gloves and earmuffs like Stan.  _Guess I’m not a hoe_.

He looks at the trees around him as he walks; specifically up in them – to check for birds. It had become a habit through the few months Stan and Richie had been together. He sees a red one not too high up in the tall tree by the side of the road he’s walking on. He’s quiet – that’s a first – and swift as he snaps a picture. It looks familiar. He tries his best to remember where he’d seen it before.

_“This one’s called a Little Stint. They’ve got rust colored heads and light brown feathers on their wings, usually with darker brown spots.” Stan pointed to the picture in his bird book held up in Richie’s hands – propped up on his chest._

_The warm early-September sunshine glimmered down on the two boys through the trees. Stan had agreed to let Richie come bird watching with him as long as he promised to keep his voice down. Richie’s head lay in Stan’s lap and he looked to his crush often, reminding himself to not talk as loud as usual._

_“What about that one?” Richie asked softly, looking away from Stan and pointing up into a nearby tree. He looked back to Stan, who pulled his binoculars up to his eyes and scrunched up his nose, clearly trying to deduce what type it was._

_“That looks like…” Stan paused a moment, lowering his binoculars and flipping through the book on his lap. “Ah, it’s a Red-breasted Nuthatch. Usually I only see white ones out here – you must be lucky.” He claimed, absentmindedly._

_“Can’t be that lucky,” Richie joked, still making an effort to keep his voice down – down more to the volume of his crush’s. It was hard – but he managed. For Stan._

_Stan shrugged, running his finger along the illustration of the bird._

_“Ooh, look at that one,” Richie crooned, his attention taken easily by the animal – relatively close by – perched in a low branch of a tree maybe fifteen feet away._

_“That’s a Red Crossbill,” Stan remarked, and Richie turned to look at him again, “One of my favorites.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind,” Richie divulged, not realizing he was talking aloud._

“Red Crossbill,” Richie says to himself. He watches his breath come up in a cloud as he speaks. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, searching for warmth.

_“I wish we never had to go back to school,” Richie confessed after minutes of silence – they felt like eternity to the ADHD-affected boy._

_“Why?” Stan asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer. “You always make perfect grades.”_

_“That doesn’t matter, though. I guess I just… Don’t want to get older.” Richie closed his eyes and felt Stan begin to run fingers through his hair. He subconsciously leaned further into Stan’s lap and touch._

_“Why?” Stan inquired again._

_“I’m scared to,” Richie answered, his voice barely audible._

_“Why’re you scared?” Richie figured Stan must have been used to playing his therapist by now - asking all of these ‘why’ questions. He felt bad. He felt more for Stan than his confidant - but he just didn’t know how to tell him. Things were so different with Eddie - Richie wondered differently if he liked them in different ways._

_“I’m scared that… I’m scared that everyone’s going to forget each other. I know things are… not as great as they used to be, for us, for all of our friends, but that doesn’t mean… That doesn’t mean I’ll forget any of you. I don’t want us to forget.” Richie noticed he was getting choked up and turned his head so Stan could only see half his face. He tried hard not to cry. “I don’t want to be forgotten.” He realized, keeping his eyes closed so the tears wouldn’t fall._

_“Richie…” Stan started but didn’t finish, Richie shaking his head ‘no’ aggressively in response. He didn’t want to hear ‘we’ll never forget you’, because how could he know the rest of them won’t forget? It was so easy for Bev to forget, for Eddie to forget._

_“You’re the only person I’ve seen besides my parents for weeks, Stan. I haven’t talked to - much less seen - Bill, Mike, or Ben since everything. I mean there was that one time with Beverly but that doesn’t - that doesn’t count. I’m sure they’ve all already forgotten about me.”_

_Stan snorted, apparently unbothered by Richie’s sobbing into his leg. “They ask about you every time I hang out with them. They caught us at the quarry last week, actually, but left - they don’t know if you want to see them. When I saw them that Friday at the Aladdin it was like I was being interrogated.” He chuckled again. “Who could ever forget you, Richie?”_

Richie’s face is practically frozen by the time he’s walking into school. He hopes Bill will give him a ride home. He doesn’t want to endure that again.

“Mr. Tozier,” The attendance woman ticks her tongue, evidently unsurprised at him coming in mid-fourth period.

“My dog died,” Richie stretched his mouth into that tight-lipped white-person smile. He doesn’t have and never has had a dog.

She ignores his remark and takes his pass without a word, handing him a pink slip in return. “Get to class before your teacher writes you up,” Richie picks up on the joking undertones of the sentence and takes the pass gratefully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He studies the pass as he walks to algebra. He gulps. He knows Stan sits next to him in that class - Stan whose texts and two calls he’d been ignoring all morning.  _Oh well, I’d have to see him at lunch either way. I’m hungry._

He steps into the class wordlessly, handing his note to Mr. Marbury before taking his seat.

He’s not sure what they’re doing - he looks around. There’s chatter and multiple heads look at one book every few rows.

“Hey,” He turns to his left to face his boyfriend. He’s ignored. “Stan.” He nudges again.

Ignored.

“Stan. Baby,” He tries. Stan continues to give him the cold shoulder, eyes trained on the equation he’s writing.

Richie sighs and purses his lips, looking toward the board - there’s book work written for him to do.  _Fine, fine. That’s fine. It’s fine._

Richie does his own work, flying through the pages of problems that made too much sense to him. The bell rings, and Stan is up and out of his seat before Richie can even put his notebook in his backpack.

He rushes after Stan in the hall.

Grabbing Stan’s arm while he was stopped at his locker, Richie frantically blurts, “Why are you ignoring me?”

“You ignored me all morning, I was worried about you, asshole.” Stan deadpans, clearly hurt but masking it with irritation. Richie knows him too well for that to work.

“I’m sorry I was - I was thinking.”

“God, hope you didn’t hurt yourself  _thinking_  for two hours straight. I covered for you in English.” He still sounds bitter.

“Stan, I didn’t mean to ignore you. I didn’t answer my phone at all after those first few texts.”

“Whatever, Richie.” He pushes his locker closed and walks away from Richie, backpack slung over one shoulder. Richie walks after him.

“Guess what I saw on my walk here, though.” No reply. “I saw a Red Crossbill.”

He analyzes Stan’s face as he speaks, and sees a smile twinge at the edge of his lips. Richie reaches for his hand and he isn’t rejected.

“I took a picture because I knew it was a bird you liked - but I couldn’t remember the name,” He white-lied. “But then I remembered that time in the summer, when we sat in the forest by the barrens a few days before school started, when you told me what it was.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Richie watches as Stan lets the smile take up his face, and Richie is satisfied. He likes seeing Stan smile.

“Why d-do you sit with us M-Mike?” Richie hears Bill question their friend as he and Stan sit down at their lunch table. Richie watches Mike take his usual seat in between Bill and Ben, plate of pizza in hand.

“Yeah,” Bev chimes in, “You have, like, all your cool friends you could sit with.”

Mike furrows his eyebrows and gives the two a funny look. “You guys are my cool friends.”

This makes the five other friends laugh. One is missing.  _Lucky six?_

“We literally call ourselves the losers club,” Ben says in between laughs.

“So?” Mike is smiling as he defends himself to his friends, taking a bite of pizza.

“So,” Beverly answers, her soft face smug as she stabs at her salad, “that means we’re the opposite of ‘cool’. That’s our whole thing.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Marsh,” Mike sticks his tongue out at their friend. She reciprocates, and it turns into a competition of who can stick theirs out more aggressively at the other.

Richie absentmindedly swishes the water in the bottle he had sat in front of him.

_“Eddie,” Richie groaned, holding still the waist of the boy straddling him. He felt the smirk against the side of his neck._

_“Hmm?” Eddie answered, continuing to suck purple marks into Richie’s pale skin. The vibrations just made Richie groan again._

_Richie mentally noted that it only seemed to encourage Eddie every time he whimpered._

_Eddie pulled away after a few more moments of groans and whimpers - bringing his hand up to Richie’s throat and holding it gently, running the pad of his thumb across his work._

_“How’s it look, Doctor K?” Richie noticed the unusual deepness of his own voice. He slipped his hand under Eddie shirt the smallest bit, rubbing his side lightly. He felt Eddie shiver before responding._

_“Bruised for sure,” Eddie replied softly, still caressing the mark that Richie can only imagine the color of, keeping his eyes trained on it. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it, something Richie knew he did when he was thinking. “You might need concealer to cover this one, actually, Rich. Shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie narrowed his eyes at the spot, still not looking at Richie._

_Richie sat up straight quickly, still holding his boyfriend on his lap,and the swift movement caused Eddie to gasp in surprise and look at him._

_“It’s fine,” Richie cooed, a drowsy smile taking up his face, “Don’t ever be sorry for that - it’s so fine.”_

_Eddie smirked down at him before moving his lips to Richie’s ear, “Good, because I wasn’t really sorry, anyway.”_

“Richie!” Stan waves a hand in front of Richie’s eyes and it only takes a millisecond for him to realize he’d zoned out and taken a trip down memory lane again.

“What? Sorry, zoned out,” Richie smiles sheepishly and tries to act unbothered by his previous thoughts.  _Get out of my head! And stay out!_

Stan looks at him with a concerned expression, his eyebrows knitted together and head tilted. Their hands were still entwined. “I asked if you wanna go get food now - the line’s short.”

“Ah, I’m not really hungry. I made myself pancakes this morning,” He lies through his smile, “Besides, gotta save room!” He sets up his joke as a diversion from his odd behavior, patting his stomach.

“For what?” Stan cocks his head, letting go of Richie’s hand and getting up from his seat.

“For later, when I eat your-!” Richie’s dirty joke is cut off by a certain short asthmatic walking up to the table, holding hands with a broad-shouldered, tall blond guy wearing a red sports jersey.

Eddie addresses the group when he speaks. “Is it cool if Drew sits with us today?” He looks up to the taller boy affectionately.

_No, Eddie! It’s not cool!_

“Of course, hey Andrew,” Mike is the first to speak, always so friendly.

_Losers only!_

“Yea, man, grab a seat,” Richie’s mouth betrays his thoughts, though he looks away as he notices Eddie’s head begin to turn toward him. He looks for Stan, but he’s already walked away.

The rest of the losers nod in agreement.

So, Andrew sits with them and Richie is forcibly subjected to listening to him and Eddie flirt right in his ear for thirty minutes. It’s excruciating.

 _Could this guy be any fucking dumber?_ Richie grits his teeth. He’s close to dopily repeating every idiotic thing this moron says out loud rather than in his head. He hopes momentarily that Eddie doesn’t have a type.  _God, do I sound this stupid when I talk?_

Eddie’s  _stupid_  giggle won’t stop  _stupidly_  ringing in his  _stupid_  head after that  _stupid_  lunch period.

_That was fucking stupid._

Richie’s foot doesn’t stop tapping through the rest of his classes. He tries his best to keep himself focused. He doesn’t even talk - just doodles when he gets distracted or bored. Which is often.

“R-Richie!” Bill catches up with him at the end of the day before he walks out the doors. “You asked for a r-ride home during l-lunch. You ready t-to go?”

“Actually, I changed my mind-”

_What are you saying you dumb shit idiot it’s negative five thousand degrees oh my god shut up!_

“-I can walk home.” He smiles convincingly enough for Bill.

“Oh, alright, be c-careful - it’s icy on th-th-the sides of the roads.” Bill warns him and smiles, “S-see you later.” He waves while he walks away.

Richie sneaks around to the side of the school to smoke a cigarette before he leaves. He watches cars go by and notes it’s not as cold as it was in the morning. The sun is out - it shines on his black curls and warms him a little bit. He puts his headphones in before he drops the cigarette to the ground.

He walks back around the school to the front slowly, in the process of making his way home.

He sees Eddie and Andrew across the parking lot, their backs turned to him. They’re holding hands. Eddie laughs, throwing his head back almost so far that Richie could nearly see his smile.

He gulps. And then?

He runs fast in the other direction.

_♪_ _Run fast from a day job_

_Runnin’ fast from the way it was_

_Jump quick to a pay check_

_Runnin’ back to the strip club_ _♪_

Richie’s long strides carry him farther from the scene and closer to his house. Closer to his bedroom. Closer to numb.

_♪_ _I_ _’_ _m never goin_ _’_ _back_

_Never goin’ back_

_No, you can’t make me_

_Never goin’ back_

_Never goin’ back_

_They’ll never take me_ _♪_

Richie’s breathing is fast and loud and through his mouth but he doesn’t stop. He knows he’s running the back way - the longer way - but he doesn’t care. He runs through Derry’s backyards and lawns, ignoring his surroundings.

_♪_ _I_ _’_ _ve paid enough of petty dues_

_I’ve had enough of shitty news_

_I’ve had a thing for dirty shoes_

_Since I was ten_

_Love dirty men alike_ _♪_

Richie fumbles with the key when he reaches his doorstep. He struggles to get it in the doorknob a total of three times before it glides in.

_♪_ _I still love_

_But I still love_

_Nothin’ but love for you_

_Nothin’ but love!_ _♪_

Richie finally turns the key and unlocks the door, throwing it open and rushing inside. The heat of his house warms his cheeks immediately - but he’s not safe it. It’s not fine yet.

_♪_ _Sorry, I_ _’_ _m faded_

_‘Think I forgot you love me_

_You love me_

_You love me_ _♪_

He pulls the key out of the door and bounds upstairs to his room as quickly as possible, the stairs seeming as if another one grows at the top for every one he steps on.

_♪_ _I moved on for the better_

_You moved on to whoever_

_I was down for whatever_

_And then some_ _♪_

When he reaches his room at last he enters hastily, leaning his back against the wooden door and sinking against it to the floor.

_♪_ _I just take it day by day_

_Never hearin’ what they say_

_I just do it my way_ _♪_

He takes a deep breath and lets his head fall into his arms, pressed against his knees.

_♪_ _I don_ _’_ _t eat, can_ _’_ _t sleep past nine a.m_

_Heart beat’ll make me feel young again_

_Can’t beat ‘em just join the party_

_I don’t want and don’t need nobody_ _♪_

His parents arrive home at their usual times - his mom at 5:30 and his dad at 6. He sits on his bed and cringes when he hears them get into minor quarrels about something someone said.

There’s a knock on his door.

“Rich?” It’s his mom. She sounds sober, so he risks it.

“Come in,” He grants.

She’s at the door with her eyebrows raised in a friendly way, a soft smile on her face, and a small pizza box in hand. “We ordered. It’s from your favorite - Mario’s.” She walks in to hand him the box. He takes it gratefully.  _I’m starving and god is real._

“Thanks, mom,” He thanks her and expects her to leave. Instead, she takes a seat on his bed. He’s confused, but he doesn’t show it.

“Are you okay? You barely leave your room anymore.” She rests a hand on his knee. He stares at it for a moment.

Has it really taken you seven months to notice?

“Yeah, just, ah, just been preoccupied,” He excuses, not knowing what else to say.

“Okay, well, you know, if you ever need to - you can talk to me-”

_No, mom, I really can’t. You don’t care, and I don’t know why you’re pretending to now._

“-I know my… Issues-”

_Alcoholism is more than just an ‘issue.’_

“-make it hard for us to be close, and I’m sorry, but right now I’m-”

_Don’t say it, don’t say it._

“-sober, and I’m here for you.”

 _‘Here for you, Richie,’ ‘We’re here for you, Richie,’ ‘I’m always here for you, Richie,’_  He mocks in his head.

“I’m fine, mom, I promise, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

She gets up from his bed and he exhales the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Okay, just remember what I said.” She gave him one last soft, sort of sad smile before walking out and closing his door, leaving him to his thoughts once again.

_I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i actually rlly liked this chapter a lot also peep my giving stans iconic “no richie shes not hot” to richie. as a Stan stan i disagree completely w my own writing but as Angst Lover Extraordinaire i say the show must go on


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates probably won’t always be this fast im just like rlly hype abt this fic and i literally write it in all my free time but i also have to like actually do school shit and i have doodles to write too so like! but chapter four will prob be up just as quickly as this because im just….really fckn hype. should i put this on ao3?? 
> 
> Songs mentioned in this chapter: Normal Girl - SZA, White Horse - Taylor Swift, You’re Not Sorry - Taylor Swift

Tuesday goes by nearly the same as Monday, but with less emotion. Richie is glad when Eddie and Andrew don’t sit with them at lunch again. Richie is glad when he has his after-school smoke and he doesn’t see Eddie and Andrew in the parking lot being  _stupid_. Richie is glad when he drives home alone and listens to the radio turned up loud. Richie is not glad when Africa comes on, but, for once, successfully ignores the memories trying to escape the safe he keeps them locked up in.

On Wednesday, Richie is ‘sick.’

Really, he wakes up on time, gets dressed, makes (burns) a piece of toast for himself, has his backpack slung over his shoulder, and has his hand on the doorknob when he feels his stomach knot.

So he tears apart the cabinet in the bathroom, looking for the thermometer to take his temperature.

_I’m sick. My stomach hurts. I’m sick. Completely ill._

His temperature is 96.7 degrees.

_0.1 degree? That has to count for something._

So, he goes back upstairs, drops his backpack on the floor of his messy room, gets back into his pajamas, gets back into bed, and goes back to sleep.

_Richie looks through the big window out on the parking lot. He’s in an unfamiliar building, with tan walls, and the only way out is through a long corridor. He feels that this is the doctor’s office, but he can’t place why. It doesn’t seem like a doctor’s office._

_His feet move for him to follow the ugly-patterned carpet down the long almost-orange hallway. Halfway there, it seems like he’ll never reach the end - until he does. He’s in the parking lot he was looking out on earlier. There’s a couch to his right, sitting up against the building. It’s white brick from the outside._

_A blue van drives by fast, two girls yelling in it. They sound like they’re having fun. It’s twilight._

_“I should be getting home now.” Richie speaks to the open air, looking out once again on the empty parking lot._

_He’s in the doorway of his room. Eddie is sitting on his bed, head down, hands in his lap._

_Richie opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Eddie remains unmoving._

_“Eddie,” Richie feels his mouth form the word but still no sounds come out. He walks into the room and waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face. The small boy doesn’t budge._

_“Hello!” Richie yells. He feels himself do it - but his voice still gets lost somewhere between his throat and his lips._

_Eddie looks up, but not at Richie. Through Richie. Richie somehow knows this, but he doesn’t know how._

_He walks back to his doorframe._

_“Fine,” He crosses his arms. “I don’t care.”_

_Eddie is motionless, staring at the wall, his hands still folded in his lap. Richie hears thunder rumble and lightning crack outside of his window he hadn’t noticed was open. Rain floods in._

_Richie stares at the scene before him._

_The water fills the room quickly, and even when it touches Eddie’s feet that are hanging off the bed, Eddie doesn’t move. It’s up to Eddie’s waist when Richie jumps in from the doorway, wading in. It’s filling up fast - like the window is a spout with the water pressure turned all the way up._

_“Eddie!” Richie shrieks, and his voice booms this time. The water pushes against him, preventing him from reaching the other boy. He’s nearly under water, and Richie can only help but scream louder. “Eddie! Eddie!”_

_He watches Eddie be submerged, his eyes closing under the water._

_Richie goes limp, letting the water carry him out of his room and glide him down the stairs to his front door. He isn’t wet like Eddie was._

_He opens his front door, standing still, shoulders with the slightest hunch._

_Stan is standing in his driveway. It’s not twilight anymore - Richie can’t tell what time it is. The sky is a bleak light gray - fit for a small rain shower._

_Stan simply stares at him. He stares back._

_“Was Eddie in there?” Stan points limply to the house. He sounds like he did when they were thirteen - and Richie squints, realizing he is looking at a thirteen year old Stan._

_“Yeah, but-” Richie hears his own voice. Nasally, higher than he’s used to. He looks down at his clothes - blue ‘Freese’s’ shirt and cargo shorts adorning his body._

_“I haven’t seen this shirt in forever!” He exclaims, quickly distracted._

_“Richie!” Stan barks. “Richie! Richie!”_

Richie is startled awake at three o’clock by his phone ringing shrilly. He rolls over, covering his head with his pillow, and tries to let it go to voicemail without him having to silence it, but the ring is so piercing and annoying that he forces himself to see who’s calling. It’s Stan.

“Hello?” He answers sleepily.

“God, I thought you were dead,” Stan breathes sarcastically into the other line, “Where’ve you been all day?”

“I was-” Richie cuts himself off with a pause before admitting what he couldn’t earlier, “I just really, really, really didn’t wanna go to school today.”

“That’s not like you, Richie,” Stan says simply, and Richie is silent.

“Anyway-” Stan starts after a moment, but is cut off by the still pajama-clad boy.

“Do you wanna come over?” He asks fast, before he can stop himself. He traces swirls into his leg and bites his bottom lip.

“Like, like right now?”

“Yeah, right now,” Richie says, sounding unsure.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Stan sounds hesitant, but there’s urgency in Richie’s voice that must be convincing. He sounds confused.

“Cool, cool, I’ll uh, I’ll see you when you get here. Bye,” Richie asserts quickly before hanging up. He facepalms after a minute of sitting with his phone in his lap. I didn’t say I love you.

He types it hastily in a text and sends it.

\- (3:04 pm) Me: i meant to say i love you before i hung up

He sees Stan read the message but not reply. He waits in his bed for the knock at his front door.

It comes within ten minutes.

Richie shuffles down the stairs, seeing his expected guest through the porch window.

“Hey,” He greets Stan, opening the door for him to come in.

“Why’d you ask me to come over?” Stan asks, and Richie can hear the wariness in his voice.

“What?” Richie smirks, “A guy can’t just invite his boyfriend over to watch a movie?”

Stan’s taking his coat off and following Richie up the stairs to his room.

Richie puts in the first DVD he sees, which happens to be Sandlot, but it doesn’t matter - he’s not paying attention. With Stan in between his legs and himself leaning against the headboard - Richie knows what he really wants.

He leans forward and rests his head on Stan’s shoulder for a minute - temporarily captured by the film. As the television shows the ball be hit over the fence, Richie begins placing gentle, slightly-open mouthed kisses down Stan’s neck.

“Richie…” Stan doesn’t moan exactly, but it’s an invitation for Richie to do more. It’s commonplace. Stan brushes his palm against Richie’s thigh, and Richie initiates the more open mouthed, sloppy kisses, lips barely leaving Stan’s neck as he starts to suck a hickey, eliciting a moan and making him smirk.

Stan pulls away to turn in Richie’s arms, straddling him, looking down at all with an expression Richie can’t read. An expression Richie doesn’t want to read.

He pulls down the light-haired boy’s face to his and meets their lips in a lustful kiss, tongues and lips colliding messily and hungrily. He grinds his hips up into Stan’s and groans, Stan wrapping his hands in Richie’s hair and tugging gently in different places.

“Fuck,” Richie whimpers, eyes closed, moving to kiss down Stan’s neck again, sliding his hands up Stan’s shirt ever so slightly and rubbing circles into the exposed skin above his trousers with the pads of his thumbs.

Stan pulls away, and Richie doesn’t force him to stay, though he wants him to.

“I have to go,” Stan claims quickly and awkwardly, fumbling off of Richie.

“Why?” Richie questions, scrambling to get up as fast as Stan had. “Did I do something wrong?” Richie’s bounding down the stairs after a hurried Stan.

“I, uh, I forgot, uh I have - I have work. Gonna be late!” He calls, practically running out of the Tozier house and into his car. Richie could’ve sworn he sounded choked up, but why would Stan be crying.

 _Maybe this is another one to add to the safe_ …

* * *

Thursday sees another day of Richie wishing he didn’t have to go to school. He entertained the thought of dropping out and living in some remote cave as a hermit for the rest of his life. Maybe his friends would come visit him on holidays in his cave.  _Except Eddie - Eddie isn’t invited to the cave._

Nonetheless, he throws on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a gray flannel, slipping on his worn kicks. He searches the cabinets for breakfast food, finding one box of captain crunch. Not his favorite, but it’s sugary breakfast cereal so it’ll do.

He takes it down, examines the box for a moment, and shrugs, carrying it to his car with him - only for him to spill it over the center console.

“Shit!” He bends to pick up the little pieces that had gotten under the pedals in the driver’s seat.  _God, I should clean this thing more often. Eddie used to help me keep it so nice._

“Shit, shit, shit,” He continues to string curses, hoping he wouldn’t be late. He forged himself a note last night excusing his absence from the prior day (‘Richie was sick yesterday. Please excuse his absence. - Maggie Tozier’) - but that didn’t mean he was willing to forge another for lateness today.

_“Richie! Oh my god, don’t put it back in the box!” Eddie screeched from beside Richie, laughing._

_“What?!” Richie laughed back, gathering fruit loops from the floor and shoving them back in the box, “They’re clean!”_

_“No!” Eddie was in a fit of giggles, “They’ve been on the floor! Do you know how many germs are on the floor?”_

_“No, I do not, but it doesn’t matter because this floor in particular is clean with no germs.”_

_“It’s your truck, Richie, how clean could it possibly be?” Eddie snarked back._

_“Well you kiss my mouth and you don’t complain about how dirty that is,” Richie smirked, and looked up finally to come face to face with a red-cheeked Eddie._

_“That’s because-” Richie cut him off._

_“Because when you kiss me you don’t think about germs? I didn’t know you kept a diary before yesterday, Eds!” He laughed maniacally._

_“Richie! You read my fucking journal?!” Eddie’s face heated even more, the skin under this freckles glowing now._

_“Only the parts about me! I swear!” He giggled and Eddie tackled him over the middle console, Richie crossing his hands over his body as if to protect him from the wrath of tiny Eddie Kaspbrak._

Richie remains carefully aware for ice on the road in the few minutes it takes him to drive to school.

Walking to his locker, a feeling bubbles in his stomach that he can only manage to describe as bad. He sees Eddie standing at the locker on down from his, and though months of ignoring Eddie and Eddie ignoring him have continuously prepared him for mornings they would cross paths individually, he has a sinking feeling this morning will be different.

He’s right.  _God forbid the universe give Richie Tozier a break for once._

“Hey Rich,” Eddie greets him, turning to look up at the taller boy that truly just wanted to grab his shit and get the fuck out of there.  _What the fuck is up this morning?_

“Hi,” Richie practically has to choke out, shooting a forceful sideways smile at Eddie and resisting temptation to push his headphones farther into his ears.

_♪ This time next year_

_I’ll be livin’ so good_

_Won’t remember your name_

_I swear_ _♪_

“So, ah, I was wondering if…” Eddie starts, trailing off. He licked his lower lip and bit on it - Richie knows he’s thinking. Can you spit it the fuck out, please?

_♪ This time next year_

_I’ll be livin’ so good_

_Won’t remember no pain_

_I swear_ _♪_

Richie looks at the smaller boy expectantly, eyebrows raised, though truly he doesn’t know what will come out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I mean,” Eddie licks his lip again, “Well, I was wondering if you’d want to come over - like after school, tomorrow, or maybe we could Saturday -” Eddie cuts himself off, sighing. “Do you wanna come over and just, like, hang out? Sometime?” He sounds exasperated and embarrassed, but hopeful.

“Stan’s coming over tomorrow after school, and Saturday we’re going bird watching from my truck,” Richie lies, unapologetically deadpan, keeping his expression completely blank. He watches Eddie’s face falter - and feels though he should be taking joy in this. He’s not.

He listens to the bell ring just then, muffled by his music, and turns and walks in the other direction, ignoring the boy he leaves standing there. 

The first couple of periods don’t last long. Richie pays adequate attention and talks often to Mike, who shares many of his classes with him. Mike had come to be Richie’s closest platonic friend.

“Hey, Richie, you okay lately?” Mike inquires out of the blue, turning to Richie. It’s third period - History - and normally Mike pays adamant attention and Richie is forced to lean forward and bother Bill instead. 

“Never better!” Richie smiles, hoping it looks genuine. Well, as genuine as you could get with a teasing remark from Trashmouth Tozier. 

Mike’s expression says he isn’t buying it, but he doesn’t press. “If you ever wanna talk, you know where to find me.” He gives Richie a soft smile before turning back to the black board and tuning into the history of the united states.

 _Afraid I don’t, dear Mike_.

Algebra seems to trudge on - Stan doesn’t talk to him, which isn’t totally abnormal. Stan knows how to stay focused for more than three minutes. Stan doesn’t have the attention span of a goldfish. 

What is totally abnormal is the weird glances Stan gives him, the way Stan’s hesitant to hold his hand, the way Stan’s observing him - staring at his face the entire time they hold hands, walking to lunch. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Richie tries to joke. Stan doesn’t budge, humor doesn’t show on his face either.

A chorus of ‘hey’s emits from the losers from their usual table. Richie looks around at them, smiling back at all of them, yet his eyes scan for something.

“Hey guys,” Eddie sits down shortly after Richie and Stan do, and everyone greets him the same, except for Richie, but that’s a given. He’s relieved that Eddie doesn’t have Andrew with him.

“So, w-what’s everyone’s week-kend plans?” Bill addresses the group, glancing around at everyone.

“I’m actually going to see my mom this weekend,” Beverly answers bashfully, looking down at the sandwich she had yet to even pick up. Richie watches pink rise to her cheeks. He knows why.

“Really?” Mike asks before anyone else has the chance, surprised but clearly happy for his friend.

“Yeah, her and my aunt have sort of been in contact and she’s… she’s coming down for the weekend, so I don’t want to make any plans to trample my time with her, you know?”

“Of course, Bev, that’s so great,” Ben smiles genuinely at the red-head, blue eyes glimmering at her. Richie knows the face of love when he sees it - he’d seen it so many times on Eddie. “We’re all so happy for you!”

“Thanks, guys,” She blushes again, “But what about everyone else? Plans?”

“I promised Mike and his grandfather I’d help him out on the farm this weekend,” Ben informs, and Mike interjects.

“Guess that speaks for my weekend plans, too.”

Richie sweats.  _Jesus Christ, the universe is out to fucking get my ass today._

“Noth-” Stan begins, before Richie quickly cuts him off, desperate to protect his lie. He wasn’t sure why.  _Who cares if Eddie knows I don’t want to be around him?_

But before this though could fully process, his mouth is moving - as usual.

“Stan and I are going bird-watching all weekend!”

“We are?” Stan gives him a pointed look from his right, obviously confused.

He sees Eddie give him a disbelieving look from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” He answers coolly, “Remember? I asked you Sunday if you wanted to take my truck and we could sit inside and watch.”

“No, but we can go, if you want, I guess.” Stan cocks an eyebrow, and Richie knows he’s fucked himself over now.

“Great! It’s a date!” Richie forces a smile hoping his over-effort isn’t noticeable.

“Yuh-y-you’re so weird, Richie,” Bill says with a small laugh.

“Yeah,” Mike teasingly tosses a piece of popcorn at him, the piece hitting his glasses and making him genuinely laugh for the first time in what felt like a long time. “You’re so weird.”

“What is this? Shit on Richie day?”  He laughs.  _Thank god for Mike Hanlon_.

Richie sees Eddie more than usual that day. He sees him walking in the hallway at least three times more than usual. Richie notices that he sits a few seats closer to him in their physics class.

Richie’s up and out of his seat as fast as light when the bell rings - physics is last period and, boy, Richie is ready to  _go the fuck home._

“If you didn’t want to, you could’ve just said so,” A small voice mumbles from beside him as he reaches into his locker for his jacket. He looks to his left and sees Eddie, standing at his own locker, clearly pretending to be busy organizing his books.  _I know you too well for that to work and you know it_.

Richie frowns, irritated, and quickly quips the most embarrassment-inducing phrase you could say to someone trying as hard to get your attention as Eddie was so clearly trying to get Richie’s.

“Are you  _stalking_  me?”

Eddie just looks at him, big eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, appalled, before sputtering his response. “What? No! I- I- I just thought we were cool, I-”

“Well, we’re not fucking cool,” Richie cuts him off, shutting his locker as calmly as possible for as furious as he was. He’s trying hard not to let Eddie think he cares.  _Because I don’t. I don’t care._ “You think just because you suddenly get a boyfriend and stop glaring at me and  _my boyfriend_ that me and you are  _cool_? That’s hilarious, Eds, really - that’s rich.”

Richie doesn’t notice the nickname slip past his lips before it’s too late, and by then he’s turned around and walking down the hall, not even pausing to see Eddie’s reaction.

He’s so pissed that he skips his after-school smoke, going straight home.

He told himself that night he would call Stan and find out what was up with him all day, but he never gets around to it. He’s busy suppressing his feelings and chain smoking the last pack of cigarettes he had in his sock drawer.

He sighs when he hears bottle caps clinking to the floor of the kitchen downstairs.

_It’s going to be a long night._

At eight o’clock, Richie can be found sitting on his bed, staring at an algebra equation. He knows how to do it, but he doesn’t want to. He looks at his phone.

\- Instagram, 1h ago: [trashmouthtoz] edskaspbrak liked your photo.

Richie knows he hasn’t posted in awhile, and is confused. He slides the notification, typing his password and watching his phone open up to an old picture of him and Eddie.

“My Eddie Spaghetti,” He begins, reading his caption aloud quietly to himself, “You know I…” Richie frowns, scanning the rest of the sentence.  _You know I say I love you eight thousand times a day, so this is what I truly mean when I say those three words…_

Richie knows this post. He checks his activity feed - but there’s no notification there for the like.

_He was creeping on my page?_

He shuts his phone off and looks toward his bedside table and then to the vintage radio he kept on his dresser.

He walks to his closet, and takes out his guitar. He’d pawned off so much of his dad’s shit for over two years for this baby. It was one of his most prized possessions. (That and his beloved Chevy ‘84.)

He strums one of the first song’s he’d ever learned - taught to him by a girl with long brown hair on youtube. Taylor Swift how-to-play tutorials are apparently quite popular.

“ _Say you’re sorry, that face of an angel comes out just when you need it to_ ,” He sings quietly, though it doesn’t sound nearly as good.

“ _As I pace back and forth all this time, ‘cause I honestly believed in you. Holdin’ on, the days drag on,_ ” He continues, and he forgets most of the chorus - except: “ _Now it’s too late for you and your white horse to come around._ ”

“ _Maybe I was naive, got lost in your eyes, and never really had a chance…_ ” He keeps strumming, but blanks on the upcoming line.

“ _I had so many dreams about you and me, happy endings, now I know_ …”

Richie stops playing and sighs.

“ _And there you are on your knees… Beggin’ for forgiveness, beggin’ for me - just like I always wanted, but I’m so sorry…_ ” He sings acapella. He thinks it’s best that he put the guitar away for now - before he upsets himself.

The fact is, after everything happened in June, Richie had listened to Taylor Swift’s break up songs for days. Richie lays his guitar on the floor at his feet and flops on his back on his bed.

_“Lookin so innocent I might believe you if I didn’t know… Could’ve loved you all my life if you hadn’t left me waitin’ in the cold…” Richie sang alone in his room, waltzing around as he so often did. Taylor Swift played loudly on his radio in the background._

_“You used to shine so bright but I watched all of it fade, so you don’t have to call anymore! I won’t pick up anymore! This is the last straw, there’s nothin’ left to beg for! And you can tell me that you’re sorry but I don’t believe you baby like I did befo-o-ore!” Richie was singing so loud he was nearly yelling, stomping around his room. He was glad no one was home._

Richie chuckles at this memory, at how angry he used to be. How upset. Now, he’s thankfully numb. So comfortably numb. So achingly numb.

Richie thinks briefly about that July, when Stan had passingly mentioned that the rest of the losers would make fun of Eddie because he was going through a Taylor Swift phase to Richie during one of their sleepovers. He tries to remember why they were talking about Eddie - if it was so soon after… Richie remembers still being heartbroken - broken-broken - in July. That’s besides the point, Richie had gone home the next morning and thrown away all of his Taylor Swift CDs, not having Eddie liking anything that he liked.

He remembers missing his friends.

He remembers missing Eddie. Oh god, does he remember missing Eddie.

_“Maybe you should talk to him, Rich,” Stan offered, stroking Richie’s hair._

_The two boys were at the quarry, the mid-September Saturday sun setting on the horizon. Richie was thankful it wasn’t getting cold yet. Richie’s head was laid in Stan’s lap (This had become a usual position for the two) and they were, well, Stan was sitting on the longest rock on the cliff, Richie laying on it._

_“Why should I?” Richie questioned bitterly, reaching up to tuck one of Stan’s long golden curls behind his ear from where it had fallen into his face. He looked like an angel to Richie from that angle - His silhouette illuminated with a little white glare caused by the sun that shone behind his head. This is another image Richie knew he would never be able to forget - and he savored it._

_“I mean now that school has started, we’ll start hanging out with our friends more - together, as a group. That includes you, in case I was being unclear,” Stan articulated, adding the last part with a hint of sarcasm, making sure Richie got the point._

_“Would it make you happy?” He squinted and look up at Stan through his glasses, “If I hung out with you and everyone else again?”_

_Stan nodded solemnly and Richie continued._

_“If he reaches out to me like Bev did - then okay. I’ll talk to him. But if he doesn’t, I’ll still go, but only if you promise he won’t be there.”_

_Richie was sure his logic had gotten messed up somewhere along his thoughts. That wasn’t exactly what he meant to make the conditions of the deal, but he had spoke too soon and after he said it, it was too late._

_“Really, Richie?” Stan beamed, suddenly excited. Richie nodded meekly._

_“But no meddling. He has to come to me himself.”_

Richie fast-forwards the memory to the next day.

_Richie’s phone rang sometime in the afternoon - he knows because the sun was beating down on him through his open window. It was a hot day for September, and Richie was bored._

_An unknown number that somehow seemed familiar popped up on the screen, and Richie shrugged, sliding his finger across the glass to answer._

_“Hello?” He said into the receiver._

_“Hey, Richie, uh-” Eddie started as Richie’s stomach sank. He regretted picking up already. He cursed himself silently for taking Bev’s suggestion (well, not so much suggestion) and deleting numbers for the sake of being petty. Suddenly, he remembered the joy in it._

_“Who is this?” He cut Eddie off even though he was fully aware of who it was._

_“Uh, it’s Eddie, sorry - I didn’t consider you deleted my number, I guess why you picked up, though…”_

_“Yeah,” Richie answered him. He wasn’t even sure why he was still on the phone with Eddie when every fiber of his being told him to hang up the minute he heard his voice._

_“It’s been a couple months, now, you know, and I know you don’t want to see me and I’m kind of shocked you haven’t hung up - but I think we should talk.”_

_Richie would’ve said no if he hadn’t promised Stan just yesterday that he would talk to Eddie if Eddie reached out. This seemed almost too coincidental, but Stan would never betray Richie’s trust like that._

_“Okay.” Richie agreed. “When and where?”_

_Eddie stuttered for a moment, probably extremely surprised Richie was even remotely willing. “I- Um- I- How ‘bout the barrens? Like, now?” He talked fast and nervously._

_“Okay.” Richie said again, hanging up this time._

_He decided it was a nice day to take his bike, so he did. He felt thirteen again when he was riding to the barrens. As if he were going there to hang out with his friends and rock-war with the Bowers gang again._

_Richie knew Eddie’s house was closer to the barrens than his own - he had to pass Eddie’s house to get here. He imagined Mrs. K snoring in her chair in front of the too-loud T.V like she always was. What a gal!_

_Richie dropped his bike at the top of the hill and marched down the grassy path alone. It felt odd doing it without all of the losers lined up, walking like ducklings down - or even just walking down without Stan._

_He wasn’t surprised to discover Eddie sitting on a rock, tossing pebbles into the water. It was something Eddie and Stan used to make a game of._

_“Okay, talk,” Richie commanded, standing and leaning to one-side, crossing his arms. His lips fell into a straight line._

_Eddie turned, looking startled, before getting up and walking over to Richie._

_“I- I’m not really prepared. I didn’t even think you’d answer, much less agree to come.” Richie was silent, so Eddie continued._

_“I know everything was fucked up. That whole night was fucked up. I just,” Eddie sighed, “I know it’s pointless for me to stand here and try to defend myself or make excuses. I know I hurt you. But the truth is, Richie, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Richie thought Eddie was finished and was thinking about what to say before Eddie started once again._

_“The truth is that I miss all of your jokes. I miss the dumb nicknames that I always said I hated but I didn’t really. I even miss all the fucking jokes about my mom,” Eddie sounded choked up. “I miss you so much, Richie, and I know I sound like a dumbass right now, but I- but I-” A tear ran down the boy’s cheek as his breath got caught in his throat. His hands scrambled to his fanny-pack for his inhaler. He took deep breaths from the aspirator before speaking again._

_“But I hate how it is not having you in my life. I hate not seeing you. I hate not hearing your voice. I hate everything about this - and you didn’t deserve for any of this to happen. You didn’t deserve to be… to be cheated on.”_

_All of this happen fast, and Eddie was red in the face with tears streaking his cheeks while Richie stood still, arms moved to his sides, watching the scene play out. It was as if he left his body - left the situation - and was watching this all play out as a third party._

_“I’m so fucking sorry, Richie. And I’m not asking to get back together - I’m not even asking to be friends - I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”_

_The two were silent for a minute or two - Richie thinking and watching Eddie’s eyes plead for a response._

_“Okay.” Richie replied as if it were the only thing he could say. He didn’t feel anything. He didn’t even feel like what was happening was real. Like a third party._

_“Okay?” Eddie wiped at his eyes with his arm, “Does that mean you’ll forgive me?”_

_“Sure,” Richie shrugged, as if this whole conundrum hadn’t been tearing him up inside for months, acting the most nonchalant he probably ever had in his life. He just wanted this all to be over. “It’s fine.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYYY long ass chapter hope yall enjoyed nehehehehe. seems like our boi richie is just…just a little mentally ill. Just a lil bit. I have BIG plans for the next chapter - and if you thought THIS was angsty then sweetie, you got a big storm comin! CHAP FOUR IS BOUTTA BE AN ANGST HURRICANE BUCKLE UP FELLAS also lmao ‘im only gonna be writing 3.5k words to 4k words per chapter’ headass this rlly is over 5k lmAO I have no control. also im sorr y if this chap is shit i didnt proofread so it may be total garbage idk!


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall get a short chapter bc the last one was so fucking long lol. (its still over 3k words dw lmAo im not that stingey) also no offense but 16/17 year olds have sex and like do sexual things and ive already explicitly stated that theyre juniors in high school so like if anyone comes for me on the last scene? not my problem

Friday morning rolls around and Richie Tozier wants to die. Just curl up and die.

It takes all of his self-discipline not to skip school again - he knows he and Stan have a math test and he really doesn’t feel like making it up.

Checking his phone as he exits his house, he doesn’t see his normal good morning text from Stan. Come to think of it, he’d hadn’t received one yesterday, either.

_What the fuck is up?_

Richie wouldn’t admit to anyone that he listens to Sza in the car on his drive to school.

_♪ Need you for the old me_

_Need you for my sanity_

_Need you to remind me where I come from_ _♪_

Richie smiles to himself a little bit. This song always reminds him of Stan. He hums softly with the music.

_♪ Can you remind me of my gravity?_

_Ground me when I’m tumbling, spiraling, plummeting down to earth_

_You keep my down to earth_

_Call me on my bullshit_ _♪_

Richie laughs. Stan was known for that last one-

_♪ Love me even if it rains_

_Love me even if it pains you_

_I know I be difficult_

_You know I be difficult_

_You know it gets difficult_ _♪_

Richie smiles, though he knows what’s coming next.

_♪ I love you, just how you are_

_Hope you never find out who I really am_

_Cause you’ll never love me, you’ll never love me_

_You’ll never love me but I_

_Believe you when you say it like that_

_Oh, do you mean it when you say it like that?_

_Oh, I believe you when you say it like that_

_You must really love me_ _♪_

Richie pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant across from school - where he sneakily parked to avoid being towed most days. He stays in the car just to hear the rest.

_♪ For real, I_ _’m not playin_ _’ no games_

_But we’re back and forth_

_I need your support, now (na na na nana)_

_And can’t you come over again?_

_Got no panties on_

_I need your support now (na na na nana)_ _♪_

Richie sighs before clicking the speakers of his truck off. Time for school.

Stan’s not there. He’s not in english, or math, or at lunch.

On his way to lunch, Richie tells himself he’ll remember to call him later and ask if everything is alright.

Andrew sits with Eddie at their table again. Just another reason Richie wishes he could curl up and die. Richie watches Andrew kiss Eddie’s cheek and excuse himself from the table to the bathroom.

He turns to Mike who begins to speak as soon as Andrew is gone, who stares uneasily at Eddie.

“Eddie… I don’t if this is the best time, and I don’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings but…”

_Is Mike gonna tell him what we’re all thinking? That Andrew is fucking annoying and not a loser and not in the club?_

“I heard Andrew talking this morning at practice to some of the other guys about… a girl he screwed over the weekend? Did you know about that? I was going to just punch him in the face immediately - but I figured I’d tell you first.” Mike finishes, and  _oh boy. Eddie being cheated on? This tea is scalding!_

“What?!” The rest of the losers seated were instantly choking out, clear surprise and anger written on their faces. Richie doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrows and looks to Eddie.

“I- Guys! It’s okay! I mean, I didn’t know about that but, uh, we sort of have an open relationship.” He answers, looking at them nervously. Richie can feel their anger dissipate.

_Suddenly the tea’s gone cold._

“I mean, he’s supposed to tell me when he does that stuff, but it’s not like I wasn’t expecting it,” Eddie gulps, “Guess I’ll have to talk to him about that.”

“Why?” Bev asks, sipping her peach tea.

“Uh, why do we have an open relationship? I don’t know,” Eddie chuckles and stirs his noodles around, apparently now very interested in them, “Maybe he thinks he’ll miss girls.” Richie knows Eddie. Richie knows when Eddie is lying.

Nevertheless, he jumps in. Quietly, which is unusual for him.

“Eddie, you deserve someone that’s dedicated to you. That’s sure they want to be with you. That likes you for you. Not someone that you’re just a trophy for meanwhile he fucks other people behind your back.”

Richie doesn’t make eye contact while he speaks, but looks up after to find the others gaping at him.

“Who are we talking about?” Andrew’s gruff voice comes from behind Richie.

“Nobod-” Eddie begins, but Richie cuts him off. He’s not having this bullshit today.

“ _I_  was talking about you,” He turns around to look up at Andrew. Andrew was tall, sure, but at 6’3 Richie still had a few inches on him. He was sure he could take him if he needed to. Richie stood up, for the sole purpose of looking down on this  _fool_.

“I suggest you keep your mouth shut, Tozier,” Andrew spits at him before taking his seat again. Richie is surprised he even dares sit back down at  _his_  table after speaking to him like that.

“And I suggest you keep your dick in your fucking pants, asshole,” Richie spits back, glaring as he picks up his bag, walking out of the cafeteria. He’d be late to class if he didn’t leave now anyway (Or so he tells himself.)

“Yeah, okay, run like a little bitch!” He hears Andrew yell behind him before Eddie shushes him. The next thing Richie hears are the cafeteria doors slamming behind him.

\- (12:32 pm) Me: is everything okay? ur not at school today

Richie sends the text to Stan sooner rather than later. If Stan was here, that wouldn’t have happened. Richie knows he would be lost without Stan.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and walks to his locker, planning to ditch fifth period in favor of a badly needed cigarette. He swears he kept an extra in his locker -

When his phone buzzes, it’s not Stan.

\- (12:36 pm) bev-im-not-sure-where-we-stand-erly: come have a cig with me

\- (12:36 pm) Me: where

\- (12:36 pm) bev-im-not-sure-where-we-stand-erly: under the bleachers of the back field

\- (12:37 pm) Me: be there in a min

Richie walks to the back of the school, looking around him to make sure no one watches him exit. For a bleak January day, it’s not super cold out - Richie notes this as he makes his way to the farthest set of bleachers from the school.

“How’d you know I was out of cigarettes?” He asks the redhead girl sitting cross legged in the dirt.

“Lucky guess,” She smirks. He sits with her and she wordlessly hands him the lit stick. He takes a long drag, leaning back on his hands as he gives it back to her. They’re silent for a minute or so, just passing it between themselves.

“I miss this, you know,” She comments, and he understands what she means. He sits up.

“I’m sorry,” He confesses.

“Why’re you sorry?” She gives him a funny look.

“I feel like I - I pushed you away. I pushed everyone away. I’m still pushing everyone away,” He refuses to make eye contact, just looking at the light gray clouds blanketing the sky.

“Hey,” She says, nudging him, “I get it. You were hurt. You have a right to that, Rich. I’m just glad you don’t hate my guts now.” He looks at her briefly before she continues, now both of their eyes are trained on the skyline. “I just miss times like last year. Remember when we’d sneak out here during gym and smoke instead of doing laps?” She laughs, “It’s a wonder our dumbasses never got caught.”

Richie gives a chuckle, too. Of course he remembers that.

“I should go, probably,” He says, getting up. He watches her mirror his motions and drop the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it.

“Are you okay, lately, Rich?” She questions. Her eyes are wide and concerned.

“I don’t know why everyone keep asking that,” He forces a laugh, “I’m fine, really.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t really know where we stand right now, but I’m only a ring away if you ever need me.”

“Thanks, Bev,” He gives her a small smile before going to class, going over his excuse in his head.

When Richie sees Eddie in the hallway twice more than usual in the afternoon, he knows Eddie is going to try to talk to him at his locker. He regrets ever opening his stupid mouth, and goes to his locker a period early - avoiding Eddie like the plague. He has a bad feeling in his stomach.

He hurries out of school and to the gas station on the outskirts to Derry - the only one that doesn’t ID him for cigs.

\- (2:46 pm) Stan My Man: I’m coming over in fifteen minutes

“Shit,” Richie grumbles to himself, reading his phone as the customer bell rings above his head. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to get back in time. The text was very anxiety-inducing.

“Pack of menthols,” He requests, putting a ten on the counter. The near-dead looking man with bags under his eyes grabs a pack off of the shelf behind him and lays it on the counter, accepting Richie’s money.

“Keep the change.” Richie snatches the pack of cigarettes off of the counter and hurries out the door.

He pulls up to his house and sees Stan’s car already parked outside and Stan crossing his arms on his doorstep, now turned to his loud truck. He puts it in park and unbuckles hastily, jumping down with his keys in hand - going to unlock the door.

He leans in for a kiss when he reaches the door, but Stan ducks away.

“Uh, okay… Is something wrong?” Richie asks, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he moves to unlock the door, letting them both in.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Richie,” Stan walks across Richie’s living room and keeps his arms crossed, raising his eyebrows in question. He looks like a mom scolding her children.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at?” Richie furrows his eyebrows.

“You’ve been acting weird all week, and you have three seconds to tell me why.” His hands move to his hips.

“Oh my god! You’re, like, the fourth person that’s said that to me!” Richie yells, irritation getting the best of him.  _Can everyone shut the fuck up?_  “I’m fucking fine! I even cracked a dick joke the other day! Just regular Trashmouth Tozier, I don’t know why everyone seems to think there’s something wrong all of a sudden!”

“No, Richie, you’re not fucking fine,” Stan sighs, putting a hand up to hold his forehead, “Do you think I’m dumb?”

“Wait - what?” Richie is so confused. “Why would I think you’re dumb?”

“Do you think I don’t know that you only invited me here so I’d hook up with you? Do you think I don’t see you staring at Eddie and spacing out? Do you think I don’t see you glaring at Andrew all the time?” Stan’s pacing now, and Richie stays still, speechless. Richie didn’t even notice himself doing those things - but now that Stan’s articulating them…

“So what? Andrew’s fucking annoying! Everything that comes out of his mouth might as well be ‘duhurr football duhurr!’ And I’m just spacey in general, it’s not necessarily about or toward Eddie! Sorry I don’t think about the fucking direction I’m looking in when I’m thinking!”

“So you admit you only invited me over here to hook up?”

“No, I… I-” Richie doesn’t have time to get his excuse out before Stan is walking toward him.

“I think we should take a break, Richie. You’re so off lately - I don’t like it. You know I’ll always be here for you - but… It’s like you won’t let me anymore. You won’t let me know what’s really going on.” He stops in front of Richie’s front door, so close to Richie yet so far.

“Stan, listen to me. There’s nothing going on, I- I need y-”

“We need a break Richie.” Stan says, firmly, opening the door. “I’m sorry.” He walks out.

Richie follows him, standing in the doorway as Stan walks to his own car. “Stan! There’s nothing fucking going on! I… For how long, at least?”

“I don’t know,” Stan answers solemnly, getting in his car.

Richie feels tear sting his eyes and he runs back inside, slamming the door, before he can see Stan drive off.

He’s never dashed up the stairs to his room that fast in his life. “Fuck!” He yells, punching the wall. He’s only half surprised when it really breaks and his fist goes through. Through the mess of tears in his eyes and on his glasses, he sees his knuckles bleeding, but he ignores it.

He sits and cries on his bed for what feels like forever, but is closer to ten minutes before he gets a sudden surge of anger again.

Anger with himself. He drove someone away yet again - the only person that really, really cared about him in his life right now. The only person he could talk to.

 _Mistake, mistake, you’re such a fucking mistake._  He doesn’t know if he can even feel air entering his lungs as he stomps back down the stairs, throwing open his front door and going to the garage. There’s only one other person he could possibly talk to about anything - and he was far too unstable to drive, so he drags out his old bike and pedals all the way to the Hanlon family farm. He doesn’t even think to bring his phone - it still laying on the covers on his bed.

Richie’s mind is nearly blank except for self-deprecating thoughts the whole ride there, and he feels at least some of his upset lift when Mike’s house comes into view.

He leaves his bike to tumble to the ground, running around the back to where he knew Mike’s room was. He’d helped sneak Mike out for parties so many times that he had the outside of the Hanlon house memorized.  

He reaches Mike’s window and peers inside - expecting to see Mike sitting on his bed reading like he usually is - but he’s not. He’s sat on the floor of his room, holding someone in a hug while they cry into his shoulder.

It’s Stan.

Richie falls back from the window and proceeds to scramble to his feet, sprinting back to his bike. He feels like he’s choking as he gets back on. He has no one.

 _Was he cheating on me?_  Is the only thought in his mind. He’d nearly sobbing at this point - it feels like June all over.  _Best friend and boyfriend all in the same day._

So, his arms steer him to the only place he knows to go when he feels like this. The only person that can make him feel better effortlessly.

Tears are still streaking down his face by the time he reaches the Kaspbrak residence - and he hopes again that nobody saw him.

He climbs the oh-so-familiar tree to the roof that Eddie’s window looked out on, and knocks once, twice, three times until the curtain opens and then the glass slides.

“Richie?” Is the only thing that can escape Eddie’s mouth before Richie is climbing through the window, mumbling, “Changed my mind about hanging out,” and smashing his lips against Eddie’s - so hard the small boy is almost knocked to the bed.

The small hands that are under his shirt within the next few minutes are gently tracing Richie’s heaving chest, eagerly exploring his abdomen. Eddie’s cold fingertips feel like electric shocks on Richie’s skin, as if he’d been touched starved since the last time they were tangled together Iike this.

There’s something about making out with Eddie that feels right - though Richie knows it should feel wrong - and he never wants to stop.

Eddie pulls back, gasping, but not asthma gasping, thankfully.

The two boys had tumbled from the window to Eddie’s bed, Eddie falling first onto it and Richie climbing over him - where they stayed.

Richie dips his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, sucking and biting at it and listening to Eddie whimper his name, until he really pushed Richie back.

“What are you- Richie, what the fuck? What about St-” He asks, wide eyed, looking at Richie incredulously.

Richie gives him a look from where he sits over Eddie - swallowing any emotions in his throat and cutting Eddie off before he could utter the name. “Do you want to make-out with me or not?”

“I mean, yes, -  _fuck_ yes,  _jesus christ yes_ , but-”

“Then shut up.”

Eddie seems to accept this as Richie goes in for more sloppy kisses and Eddie reciprocates, his hands returning to the inside of Richie’s shirt.

By the time either of them spoke again, Eddie had hickies trailing down the side of his neck and they’d switched positions, Eddie now straddling Richie and the two of them sharing lazy, tired kisses. Richie bites down lightly on Eddie’s lower lip before releasing and going back in for Eddie’s neck - mumbling against it. “So what’s the real reason?”

Eddie pauses the soothing raking of his fingers up and down Richie’s sides. Richie wishes he didn’t - he wanted to keep feeling like jelly under Eddie’s touch. “Real reason for what?”

Richie doesn’t stop the wet kisses he’s leaving along Eddie’s collarbones, speaking through them as he answers. “Your open-relationship. Andrew.”

Eddie squirms. “Fuck - Andrew - I- This is… This is wrong. If he finds out it was you that I… hooked up with… I don’t think he’d be very happy. God, this is so wrong.” He claims, ending in a sigh as his hands resume their motions on his sides.

“I don’t feel you stopping, Eds.” Richie smirks and hums, thoughts about anything but Eddie Kaspbrak completely leaving his brain for the time being.

“I don’t want to stop,” Eddie says in a low voice, almost a whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it. Richie can feel his throat vibrate as he speaks.

“So, what’s the real reason?” He pulls his lips away and looks up at the boy in his lap.

Eddie won’t make eye contact. “I, uh, I wouldn’t…” He sighs, “I wouldn’t sleep with him, or suck him off, or get him off at all… I know what you’re gonna say-”

“Eddie,” Richie groans, “You can’t… Oh my god, Eddie.” He closes his eyes, as if thinking about how to solve the predicament. “Why are you dating him if you don’t really want to be with him?”  
“I- I-,” Eddie’s cheeks grow red. “I do… Want to be with him…”

Richie raises his eyebrows, asking “Then why am I doing this without being stopped?” before dipping his head back under Eddie’s chin, leaving pecks down the front of Eddie’s throat.

“B-because,” Eddie stutters, “I don’t know.” He huffs.

“You don’t really care about him,” Richie states as less of a suggestion and more of a fact.

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” Eddie whines, squirming again - this time, accidentally grinding down on Richie.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie is suddenly hissing into his neck, holding Eddie’s sides tighter.

“What?” Eddie inquires too sickly-sweet and innocently - pretending he doesn’t know what he just did, teasing the mess of curls underneath him.

He grinds down again, and Richie pulls his head out from Eddie’s neck again - seeing Eddie’s smirk - to growl in his ear, “If you don’t quit that right now I don’t wanna hear shit when I’m flipping you over, Kaspbrak.”

“My mom’s not home,” He purrs in response, “She’s out to dinner with her book club or whatever. Won’t be home ‘til later tonight…” Now it’s his turn to lean into Richie’s neck and leave sloppy kisses. Richie had forgotten how much of a tease Eddie loves to be until now.

“Jesus christ, Eds,” Richie half-whines, half-moans, melting, “Have mercy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gays um okay I kind of hate this but THat is ok. I just feel like its rlly rushed but like…… that’s also the point? Like everything is supposed to happen so fast bc Richie feels fragile and like his world is able to collapse in the span of 30 minutes and it does? idk! hope u guys dont think its shit bc i actually had time to edit it! also guess what im starting TWO new fics LOL im fucking garbage !!! and thanks for always telling my writing is good even tho i use the word “quickly” at least nine times a chapter!


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO>>> I KNOW ITS BEEN LIKE A MONTH and i have no excuse im just garbage nsdfkjnf but we’re almost halfway done the story isnt that crazy guys!! i wrote like all of this chapter tonight and i know its EXTREMELY SHORT and i am so sososo sorry but i figured a short chapter is better than no chapter?

Richie wakes up every morning for the next week just willing for it to be the weekend.

On Monday, he feels more satisfied than he’d been in what seemed like forever.  _Christ_.

On Tuesday, he and Eddie share little glances throughout lunch - it almost occupies so much of Richie’s mind that he doesn’t notice Stan and Mike aren’t there.  _Almost_.

On Wednesday, Richie is fully distracted by dirty thoughts all day, and writhes alone in his bed at night, trying to keep his groans and gasps to himself.  _Eddie_.

On Thursday, Richie keeps mistaking it to be Friday countless times, feeding his anticipation.  _Friday_.

On Friday, Richie encounters Eddie by his locker at the end of the day.

“Ten thirty?” The smaller boy questions, keeping his eyes trained on his own books, but Richie can see the redness in his cheeks.

“No later than,” Richie half-jokes in response, closing his locker and walking toward the side-door for his after-school cigarette.

He’s lighting up as he begins to think back on the events of last weekend. When Eddie’s mom had come home Friday night, Richie hid under the bed meanwhile Eddie went to downstairs to ask if he could ‘sleepover Bill’s for the weekend’. It took thirty minutes of convincing, but Eddie finally came back upstairs and Richie climbed out the window - meeting Eddie back out front within a few minutes. Richie thinks about the sexual tension between them as they rode their old bikes to his house, sneaking past his parents room downstairs and up and into his own. He remembers all the different pitches Eddie quietly moaned his name. He remembers Eddie putting his fingers in Richie’s mouth to keep him quiet while Eddie-

“What’s got you so wrapped up in thought?” Richie didn’t notice Ben was leaning against the wall beside him until Ben speaks, startling Richie.

“Oh, ah, nothing. Just stupid stuff.” Richie chuckles, hoping whatever was going on in his jeans wasn’t noticeable. He puts the cigarette out against the brick wall.

Neither boys look at each other. Richie feels as if Ben knows something he doesn’t.

“Remember a few years ago, when we first met, and we sat outside the drugstore waiting for the guys to get supplies? After Bower’s carved that ‘H’ into my stomach?” Ben asks, and Richie looks to him, but Ben’s eyes stare far away into the distance.

“Yeah,” Richie answers, trying to figure out why Ben would bring that up. How could he possibly ever forget that? How could he forget meeting one of his best friends? “Why?”

“I’ve just noticed you and Eddie staring at each other a lot recently, and I haven’t seen you look at him exactly like that since back then,” Ben chuckles, “Like he hung the stars.”

Richie’s holding his breath as he playfully shoves Ben, “Oh, don’t go all waxing-poetic on me, now, Benny! I could say the same for you at Bev!” He tries desperately to change the subject.

Ben turns his head to Richie, eyebrows raised.  _Oh, god, he knows._

“So what happened with you and Stan?”  _OH, GOD, HE KNOWS._

Suddenly, as soon as Ben speaks this, Richie’s phone rings. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to get a call from Beverly.

He quickly shows Ben the screen, ‘Beverly Marsh’ showing. “Gotta go steal your bitch! See ya, Benny boy!”

“Hey Bev,” He answers coolly.

“Hey trashmouth,” She greets him with her old nickname for him. Some things never change, “You wanna hang out tonight? I know a couple parties going on - and I was thinkin’-”

“Nah, I can’t,” He articulates, realizing that sounded extremely too forward. He curses himself in his mind.  _Stupid idiot._

“Ah, okay, how about tomorrow?”

“Can’t tomorrow either, sorry.” He knows how pathetic he sounds.

“Next weekend?”

“Listen, I kind of signed away my weekends for, like, the rest of my life, so…” He excuses, trying to think of something to say. Jesus, why else would he be busy all the time if he wasn’t fucking someone? What’s a good excuse?

“What the fuck?” She half-laughs, but it comes out sounding offended. She probably was.

“Listen, Bev, it’s not you, I swear, I, uh-,” He tries hard to think of a lie quick,”I joined a youth group. For the next few weeks we have meetings for, like, literally the entire weekend.”

“You? Richie Tozier? You joined a youth group?” She repeats, incredulous.

“Yep!” He’s satisfied with himself and his lie, trying to play it up, “I’m becoming one with the lord - actually - I’m here now so gottagobevbye!” He rushes and hangs up, not waiting for her response.

He mutes his phone when she calls again, letting it go to voicemail.

Richie pulls himself up into his truck and drives home. When he gets home, he doesn’t really know what to do with himself for the next several hours before Eddie comes over.

So, he stalls.

He showers well, blow dries his hair, and tries on several different outfits before deciding on one he thinks Eddie will think makes him look hot.

He makes an egg sandwich, eats the egg sandwich, makes another egg sandwich, eats that one halfway and then throw the other half away.

He walks upstairs, then downstairs, then upstairs again - each time feeling as if he’d forgotten something in the other place.

He locks himself in his room once his parents get home, turning music on softly and having a small dance party. Richie hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Monday morning rolls around once again, it’s ugliness greeting Richie in the morning with the slap of his alarm ringing. He groggily opens his eyes and rolls over, subconsciously reaching for a lover that wasn’t there as he’d been on the nights of the weekend. Richie sighs, getting up and getting ready mechanically.

This is Richie’s routine for the next three weeks. Every morning, he reaches, and only two out of seven days are his arms filled. These are Richie’s favorite days.

Richie hasn’t seen much of Stan outside of math class or English class - and even those he’s been skipping lately in favor of watching Eddie drop to his knees in a grimy bathroom stall.

But he doesn’t see him at lunch either, and not much of Mike as well, now that he thinks about it…

_Tears streamed down Richie’s face as he looked into Mike’s window._

_Stan._

_Stan was there, sitting on the floor with Mike._

Richie doesn’t let his thoughts go any farther.

“Happy hump day, fuckers!” He yells as he sits at the lunch table with his friends.

“W-what’s so happy ab-bout it?” Bill muses, teasing Richie. Richie gives him a sarcastic beam.

“Well, Billy-boy, we’re halfway to the weekend!” Richie mistakenly lets his eyes slip over to Eddie. Bill snorts quietly in response.

Richie sees Bill’s eyes flash to Eddie before returning to him, “And what’s s-so great about the w-weekends, Rich?”

Richie never let up on his lies. He’s kept it up for this long, “Learning about Jesus, Bill! Fuck’s sake, you never went to Sunday school?”

Bill and Ben share a glance from next to one another. “Learning about Jesus, huh?” Ben chuckles, “Okay.”

Richie lets the conversation drop.

Fifteen minutes later, Richie is doing quite the opposite, learning instead things he once already knew about Eddie’s body instead.

Needless to say, it was a good week for Richie Tozier - better than most, at least.

Until Friday after school, that is.

Richie’s phone buzzes violently in his pocket, and he fishes it out to read the name ‘Stan My Man’ with a heart emoji to the right.  _Remember to change that._

Richie thinks briefly about the past month - how bitter he hadn’t been about the thought of Stan, and except for occasionally considering the prospect of Stan cheating on him, how he hadn’t thought much about the curly-haired Jewish boy at all.

“Hello?” Richie slides the answer button, his voice coming out confused. He’s making his way around to the side of the school for his afternoon cigarette.

“Richie?” Stan says, sounding surprised.  _Christ, why is everyone so surprised I can pick up the damn phone?_ “Uh, do you mind if I come over for a little? It won’t be long, I know you’re probably having your cigarette right now so I can come in, like, fifteen minutes…” Stan trails off, and Richie recognizes his tone. It’s his ‘I-don’t-know-where-I’m-going-with-this-anymore’ tone.

Richie can’t fathom why Stan would want to come over. He dumped Richie.

_Well, not dumped. ‘We need a break’, remember, shithead?_

“I guess,” He finds his mouth moving without authorization from his brain.

“Cool,” Stan rushes and hangs up immediately.

Richie looks at his phone, then to his half-smoked cigarette. He lifts it back to his mouth and inhales.

 _The kiss was salty, full of Richie’s tears - but not sad tears, for once. Sure, Stan was Richie’s confidant, and he cried to Stan_ a lot _. But this was different._

_School hadn’t started long ago, only a few weeks, and seeing Eddie daily felt like stabs to Richie’s heart still._

_Richie and Stan sat in Stan’s bedroom on the floor one Saturday night, and as they finished watching Goonies for the billionth time in their lives, Stan got up to take the DVD out._

_“Do you want to watch another?” Richie questioned his crush as he sat criss-cross watching Stan._

_“Actually,” Stan turned to look at Richie from over his shoulder bashfully, “I kind of wanted to talk.”_

_“Okay,” Richie agreed simply. This was often what he said to Stan when he had something he was upset about, so he figured, yeah, of course he would be there for Stan. Stan had done so much for him. “What do you want to talk about?”_

_Richie’s bespectacled eyes followed Stan’s movements until he was sitting criss-cross in front of Richie._

_Stan was silent for a moment, lips pursed. Richie was about to speak again, tell him to take his time, before Stan looked to his hands in his lap and mumbled, “Us.”_

_Richie would’ve cracked a smile if he didn’t choke on his own breath. ‘Us,’ What about us? Did Stan know? Did Stan not feel the same? Richie’s mind panicked, convincing him that Stan found out by some miracle and was going to hate Richie forever and Richie would never trust anyone again and he was going to die alone-_

_“Listen, Richie,” Stan’s voice was calm, and it broke Richie away from his chaos of a thought train. He focused on the beautiful boy in front of him, who still wouldn’t look up. He focused on the way Stan’s shining curls feel into his face, so Richie could barely see his eyes. He focused on the way Stan batted his eyes to himself a few times. He focused on the fidgeting of Stan’s hands - something he often found himself doing._

_Richie knew this was another one of those images - one of those he will never be able to forget._

_His mouth was suddenly moving a mile a minute before he could stop it._

_“No, Stan,” He rambles, “I-I know you know. You know and now you’re going to hate me forever. You know and now our friendship is ruined - because I ruined it,” His thoughts travelled much faster than his tongue, however, and in his mind’s eye he was already laying alone in a casket with no one at his funeral to care, “You’ve-you’ve done so much for me,” Richie’s eyes began brimming with tears, and Stan looked alarmed, though Richie didn’t stop_ fucking talking _._

_“I’m such a piece of shit,” He continued, “It’s okay that you don’t like me back, I haven’t done half the shit you’ve done for me for you. I don’t deserve -” He choked, and he realized he was crying now. Close to sobbing even._

_Stan didn’t say anything, but managed to cut Richie off by enveloping him in a hug. Richie sobbed into his shoulder a bit, and they stayed like that only a moment before Stan’s soft voice vibrated against Richie’s cheek._

_“Please don’t say that, Rich, that’s not - I wasn’t going to say that…”_

_Richie held his breath. “So what were you gonna say?” He asked into Stan’s shirt._

_“I like you.” Stan answered simply, and just as simply Richie pulled back and cupped Stan’s face in his hands, and soon their lips were interlocked in a short kiss that tasted like Stan’s chapstick and Richie’s tears._

_Salty Strawberries._

By the time Richie snaps out of his thoughts, he’s already driving home. He half-smiles at the oddness of how easily he slips into autopilot nowadays.

He considers what Stan might be wishing to talk to him about - why he needs to see Richie. Surely it was to talk - what else could it be for?  Richie knows Stan too well at this point to think any differently.

Richie pulls smoothly into his driveway and shuffles inside to escape the biting winter air. He dawdles, opening and closing the empty cabinets in his kitchen until he hears tires roll outside, and suddenly his stomach drops to the pit of itself and he feels sick.

The terrible dreading feeling only increases when the inevitable knock follows the sound of a car door shutting and Richie’s feet force him to the door.

Outside stands Stan, pulling his coat tight against himself. Richie can see his breath.

“Stan,” Richie nods at him when he opens the door, “You can, uh, you can come in.”

Stan nods in response, stepping into the Tozier household that was so familiar. Richie watches as he sits politely at the edge of a couch cushion, and Richie laxes on the other side of the couch. Stan is sat upright, hands folded in his lap - so very Stanley-like. He looked at Richie with hooded eyes and inhaled deeply before speaking.

“So, Richie,” He begins, “I’ve been thinking about some things, and I’ve- I’ve been spending a lot of time with Mike lately-”

Suddenly, Richie rises from the couch, dread in his stomach replaced with intense irritation. “So are you here to confess?” He spits, looking away from Stan and to his feet at the floor.

“What?” Richie could see just enough of Stan from the corner of his eye to see him visibly recoil.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed you two sneaking off at lunch all the time? You don’t think I figured it out?” He laughs bitterly, “That’s rich, Stanley.” He looks back to the boy still sitting on the couch.

Stan’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He inquires again.

“For fuck’s sake! You cheated on me!” Richie finally accuses. He’s not at all sure why he’s doing this - not sure what suddenly caused him to explode, because on the inside - he wants to crawl up the stairs and into his room, lock the door, and never come out again.

“You… You think I’d cheat on you?” Stan breathes. He gets to his feet and looks to Richie with a look of hurt mixed with defense.

“Well, fucking obviously,” Richie rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, I’m used to it now anyway. Getting played by the people I love. I don’t remember applying for the job of the doormat but I should get a raise! I clearly do a  _great fucking job_!”

Stan lets out a bitter breathy laugh. “Wow, forget this.” He snarks, before moving to the door again, continuing. “If you think I would cheat on you, Richie Tozier, you’re nowhere near as smart as those A’s you get make you out to be. If you think I would wish that pain on you again - after living through it with you - you are so _fucking_ dumb.” His hand is on the door handle, and he doesn’t let Richie get a word in before continuing.

“I came here because I want you back,” He spins and looks Richie in the eyes, “But I guess if having Eddie’s dick in your ass is that great then fuck that. I think it’s cute you thought I wouldn’t notice either.” He squints before returning his gaze to the door handle, turning it.

“And I’m so fucking glad,” He stops cold in the doorway, back turned to Richie who only looks on, open-mouthed, “That I got to be your rebound. Go fuck yourself, Richie.”

Stan slams the door behind him, making Richie flinch, before Richie watches him through the window - stomping down to his car and driving away.

Richie, for maybe the third time in his life, is speechless.

Not having any clue what to do - he does the first thing that comes to mind.

\- (3:13 pm) To: Eds

_Can you come over early tonight?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY WRITING IS GARBAGE AND I HATE MYSELF HELLO


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey bros im sorry it takes me forever to update lately AND THAT THIS IS SO GODDAMN SHORT i wrote it all today but i hope it holds you over til the next (and final!) chapter!!! also i changed my url from trashy-tozier to thiS (80slieberher) in case anyone was wondering

Richie groans as his hips grind up into Eddie’s, their unclothed forms moving together in a messy rhythm under Richie’s sheets. “Whose are you?” He mumbles against Eddie’s lips.

“Yours, Rich,” Eddie responds desperately, “Yours, yours!” He pants, “God, I’m gonna -,”

“Yeah, me too,” Richie pulls Eddie closer to his chest, beginning to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses down his neck the way he knows Eddie likes.

Within seconds they’re both out of breath, Eddie flopping down onto the mattress beside Richie and trying to catch his breath. Richie smirks, looking over. “Still takin’ your breath away, Eds?”

“Are you going to ask me that every time we have sex?” Eddie retorts, rolling his eyes but forfeiting a chuckle anyway.

“Sure am,” Richie laughs, “Hit the showers, Spaghetti!” He pulls out a Voice, mimicking their gym teacher.

Eddie swats his arm but goes anyway, per their usual routine. Eddie wasn’t keen on the sweat and overall ‘gross’ feeling after sex. Richie can’t really relate, but hey,  _different strokes for different folks_ , he thinks.

Richie hears the water of his shower turn on and tucks his arms behind his head, sighing in contentedness.

The spring Monday morning brings Richie to school floating on a cloud, birds chirping and the weather warm enough he could roll down the windows comfortably if he drove slowly enough. He doesn’t know how the people on the radio could call for thunderstorms this afternoon - it seems unlikely to him.

His classes are easy - and he’s not so much avoiding Stan now a few weeks later as he was. Maybe it’s just his good mood or maybe something else or maybe the two combined, but he waves to him this morning - even asks him for a pencil in English.

Both times, he’s met with the kind eyes of Stanley Uris, his rebound. He knows this - he doesn’t know if Stan knows, but he does.

_A choked sob escaped Richie’s throat and he buried his face further into Stan’s pajama top, feeling wet spots created by his previous roll of tears._

_“Shhh,” Stan soothed, stroking his hair, “What was it about this time?”_

_This was recurring, Richie having a nightmare and fumbling through Stan’s window at night, Richie knew Stan was always prepared. He was, however, always worried he was bothering his boyfriend, no matter how many times Stan said it was okay. Nonetheless, when Richie was distressed, Stan was the only person he wanted to console him._

_“It happened again,” Richie cried, muffled by Stan’s shirt, “H-he hates me, he forgot about me, everyone did, nobody knew who I was…”_

_“Eddie?” Richie felt Stan swallow above him and exhale pointedly._

_“Yeah,” Richie sniffled, “I… Don’t know why I can’t… I can’t let go…” He pulled back from Stan and looked at him. He thought he caught a glimpse of sadness in his eyes, but couldn’t be sure in the dark._

_“I know this is selfish, but…” Stan sighed, and Richie instinctively moved his hand to lightly brush his palm against Stan’s cheek in effort to be comforting, “Am I a rebound for you, Rich?”_

_Richie, stuck in the moment, swallowed hard and didn’t give his next words much thought before they were tumbling from his lips, “No, Stanley, of course not - I… I love you,” He confessed, “Different from how I used to love you.” He whispered._

_And it was true. He did love Stan - different from the way he did only a few months ago. He could always see plainly Stan’s care for him and others; he would never have denied Stan’s attractiveness (“Stan the Man’s got a jawline fah dayysss!” “Beep beep, Richie.”), and he for sure would never dare look past the stupidly-adorable bird thing - but now, all of Stan’s good qualities seemed intensified, making Richie’s heart swell when he laid eyes on the boy._

_“Okay,” Stan breathed out again, “I trust you.”_

_It wasn’t what Richie was imagining their first ‘I love you’ would be, and it surely didn’t go as smoothly as his and Eddie’s, but it was new, it was unique, it was awkward, and most forwardly, it would have to do - just like Stan Uris._

Richie hears the low roll of thunder on his way to lunch, and peers out the hallway window to catch sight of dark clouds approaching, nearly taking up the entirety of the blue sky. He shrugged; Richie sort of liked the rain anyway.

Richie does not like, however, Andrew Dansmith. And what better sight to see than this particular asshole, sitting next to Eddie at his lunch table, holding Eddie’s hand and laughing.

Richie squints, the breath moving out of his mouth suddenly feeling like smoke emanating from the fire that had just settled in his stomach.

He swipes his tongue over his teeth and whips out his phone and texting Eddie without plan.

\- (12:03 pm) Me: left wing bathroom. i need you

He doesn’t wait for the reply as he watches Eddie check his phone from afar and excusing himself from the table, immediately making his way to the bathrooms. Richie smirks again and lets his long legs carry him a different route there.

He’s already waiting when Eddie gets there, leaning against the sink and mumbling “Lock it behind you,” to the shorter boy.

Within another minute, Eddie has complied and has his mouth on Richie now, Richie feeling him shiver as he slides admittedly cold hands under Eddie’s shirt and onto his waist.

Richie can’t help the groan that rises in his throat as Eddie pecks little kisses down his clothed abdomen, hooking fingers in the belt loops of Richie’s black skinny jeans.

“Eds…” He hums, allowing his fingers to card through Eddie’s hair and his eyes to flutter closed - but behind closed eyes, however, all he can see is Andrew’s hand entwined with Eddie’s, making him laugh. “Break up with Andrew,” He blurts his thoughts before he can stop himself. His eyes shoot open to watch Eddie’s reaction.

He expects anger, annoyance, something… explosive. But instead he receives a sigh and a sad glance from under Eddie’s eyelashes before the small boy looks away, embarrassment written all over his face by the pink swelling in his cheeks.

“I can’t,” He mumbled, however not letting go of Richie’s jeans.

“Why,” Richie groans again as Eddie simply continues his previous actions, starting to palm him through his jeans - embarrassment now evidently gone.

“Beep beep, Richie,” Is the only answer Richie receives before his pants are being unbutton and yanked down. He hisses and grips the sink’s edge, eyes closing again - this time filled with imagines of Eddie under him and on top of him and  _Jesus fucking Christ, this isn’t going to end like he wanted it to._

Friday rolls around and Richie still feels slightly betrayed - Andrew sat with them at lunch every day that week and Richie did not appreciate it. He shut down Andrew’s quips whenever possible, earning a concerned look from Stan and confused ones from everyone else.

When 10:30 rolls around, Richie’s already inebriated - vodka bottle in hand.

“Richie?” Eddie scrambles through the window, looking concerned, “Ugh, why are you-?” He’s word-vomiting before Richie puts his finger to Eddie’s lips and wordlessly hands him the bottle.

That’s all the convincing it takes for Eddie to take a sip. And another. And another.

Soon enough, the two of them are drunkenly laughing and rolling on Richie’s bed, talking some nonsense about their childhoods and mixing this conversation with sloppy kisses, maybe even slipping ‘I love you’s in the mixture and giggling over it like kids in love.

They jump apart when Eddie’s phone rings loudly, signaling a call and simultaneously startling them both.

“Who is it?” Richie slurs, trying to read from over Eddie’s hands, but he can’t before Eddie’s sliding the answer button and pressing it to his ear. Richie leans in closer, listening.

“Helloooo?” Eddie giggles.

“Eddie?” Richie knows the voice immediately; even drunk it ignites rage in him - Andrew. “Where are you?”

“Oh, hey, Andy,” Eddie laughs, “I’m at the loooove of my life’s house!” He coos, and Richie nearly swoons as he forgets what’s going on.

“ _Who’s_  house?” Andrew repeats impatiently.

“Richie’s! Duh!” Eddie answers and Richie hears three beeps signaling Andrew hung up on him.

Richie doesn’t have to be sober to know that’s not good.

Richie considers not going to school Monday. Not because he’s afraid of Andrew in any sense - he just doesn’t want to deal with it. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever, really.

But, by some force of the universe, he gets out of bed and goes anyway - just thankful he doesn’t have any classes with the bumbling fool.

Lunch, however, is shared with Andrew - as Richie has come to know over the past couple of months.

“You’re a dead man, Tozier!” Echoes through the cafeteria the moment Richie steps through the threshold, and he almost turns on his heels to walk out. He isn’t really sure why he doesn’t, but again he’s subconsciously propelled forward.

By some miracle, Eddie walks in behind Richie, bumping into his back, looking distracted.

“ _What?_ ” He hisses in Andrew’s direction, not even seeming to notice Richie.

Richie quirks his eyebrows, again remaining uncharacteristically silent.

“Nothing, Eds,” Andrew pushes past Eddie and is instantly standing in front of Richie - but Richie’s eyes are only on Eddie, though he’s seething hearing someone else call Eddie that.

Eddie’s nearly shaking - he looks so angry. Richie has never seen Eddie look so furious.

“Are you fucking kidding, Andrew?” He yells, walking back up between Andrew and Eddie.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Eddie, after that phone call? So you’ll fuck him but won’t put out for me?” He laughed bitterly, “Some things never change, do they?” He snarks, and Richie loses it.

“Don’t fucking talk to him like that,” He demands simply, before socking Andrew in the right side of his jaw.

“You’re so fucking dead, Tozier,” Andrew holds the side of his face and glares again.

“ _So are we!_ ” Eddie huffs at him before turning and stomping out of the cafeteria.

“More where that came from, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go fuck your bitch,” The stupid joke tumbles past Richie’s lips quickly before he’s rushing out the door - at first intent on going after Eddie, but once he turns the corner or lockers, he stops.

He rests his back against the lockers and sighs a long sigh, his head nearly spinning.  _What just happened?_

Before his feet can move him anywhere else, he slides down the surface of the lockers and puts his face in his hands.  _What am I doing?_

Tears wet his palms and then there’s a voice and there’s hands on his shoulders and the area on his back below his neck, rubbing gentle circles into it and murmuring quiet comforts - voice all too familiar.

“Come on, Richie, let’s get you out of here,” It says, and those gentle hands help Richie up and guide him out a side door as he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve.

Richie is shuffled to his car and the door is opened for him, and he’s somehow not surprised when he opens his eyes again and sees Stan in the passenger seat of his red truck.

Stan’s pastel yellow sweater contrasted against the dark gray upholstery and was oddly soothing to Richie’s tired eyes.

Looking into Stan’s eyes, however, are a different story - the only emotion shining through the hazel irises was care, and it made Richie die inside. Die inside because Stan didn’t deserve the past six months, five of them spent being his rebound and all six filled with Richie lying to himself.

“I’m so sorry, Stan,” Richie blabbers, his old sense of trust in Stan taking over him in this primitive state of confusion.

“It’s okay, Richie, you’re gonna be oka-” Stan begins before Richie cuts him off.

“No, it’s not okay,” Richie shakes his head, tears still pitifully falling from his eyes, “I still love him, Stan, I loved him the whole time and I told you I didn’t and I told you were my world and that you weren’t a rebound and, and… And you  _were_ , and I’m so sorry.” Richie swallows the lump in his throat as he word vomits, speaking quickly.

“I know,” Stan smiles sadly and places his hand on Richie’s arm, stroking softly, “It’s okay - go back to him.”

“Go… What?” Richie tilts his head, sure he misheard. Stan should be furious with him. Stan should be yelling and screaming at him - but he’s not. And this is why Stan Uris is Richie Tozier’s best friend.

“Go back to him, Richie,” Stan continues to urge, “Tell him how you feel. Something tells me he might feel the same.”

So Richie does something unusual - he does what Stanley Uris tells him to.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey im fuckin here,,,, finally finished this fuckin garbage fic ((im sorry if u have no idea what this is anymore its so late and so short i just want it so i can have it completed on ao3 tbh)

Richie skips school the next day.

He lays in bed and thinks hard. He thinks about Stan, and Eddie, and Beverly, and everything he’s gone through in the nearly 9 months since everything.

But he thinks about everything before these 9 months, too.

_It was freshman year. Richie Tozier had recently (last year) come to accept the fact that he had a crush on one of his best friends - Eddie Kaspbrak. It was only a matter of time before Eddie found out, and the unorthodox way it unfolded screamed ‘I’m Richie Tozier and these are my dating tactics!’_

_It was after a long day at the quarry with the losers, September winds not cool enough to deter them from spending the sunny hours in the summer-warmed water._

_It had been the best summer of Richie’s life - he remembered that much._

_Richie had snuck in through Eddie’s window to sleep over - as was common. As long as he was gone in the morning and Mrs. Kaspbrak was one the wiser, it was alright. He liked sleeping at Eddie’s, it was fun. Plus, Eddie looked super cute when he was asleep._

_It was getting late, and Richie could hear Mrs. K snoring from downstairs - he offered a chuckle to this._

_“Are you tired?” Eddie asked him, accompanied by an innocent yawn._

_“Am I ever, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie teased, “I never get tired. I run on fossil fuels.”_

_“What about when we exhaust all the natural resources?” Eddie snarked, “What then, smart guy?” He pulled down the covers of his bed - moving to the far side for Richie to climb in beside him. This was habit._

_“Guess I’ll die,” Richie shrugged, getting into Eddie’s bed._

_“Can you turn the light out?” Eddie requested, looking to Richie with his perfect, brown doe eyes._

_“Yeah,” Richie nodded, and they were silent in the darkness for a moment._

_“Hey Rich-,”_

_“Hey Eds-,”_

_They spoke at the same time in similar hushed tones. Eddie giggled. “You first.”_

_Richie panicked for a minute, but calmed when he remembered it was only Eddie. Eddie who already knew he was stupid and untactful._

_“I like you,” He blurted, and the word-vomit was soon to follow, “Like. As more than my friend. And I know that’s weird and it’s okay if you don’t like me back but I’ve liked you since I can even begin to remember and I-,”_

_Eddie cut him off. “Shut up, idiot,” He laughed, “I like you, too.”_

_Richie’s cheeks burned in the darkness, and he wasn’t sure how Eddie was handling this so smoothly._

_“So - wanna catch a movie with me tomorrow? But, like, as a… A date, then?”_

_“Yeah… Yeah, sounds good.” Richie saw a fraction of light glint off of Eddie’s hair as he nodded in the dark against his pillow. “G’night, Richie.”_

_“Night, Eds.”_

Richie clasps and unclasps his fingers.

_Their first kiss wasn’t for a while - it being both of their actual first kisses._

_It came a few months after they had started ‘dating’ - though Richie had tried to kiss Eddie several times before and was foiled every time but the circumstances before it actually happened._

_They were the last left at the barrens one day after the squad had hung out - Bill lingering only a moment before, before realizing he was late to pick up Georgie. Richie assumed everyone else had things to do but he and Eddie, as was usual. That’s why they hung out together so often._

_They sat on the rocks, knees pulled up to their chests. Richie remembered going on about his favorite song at the time (Now one of his all-time favorites) - Africa by Toto._

_“Do you ever shut up?” Eddie joked, and Richie laughed._

_“No,” He answered, “‘Fraid I don’t, my good sir. Pardon.”_

_“Not for anything?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, and Richie wondered what he was getting at._

_“Not for anything.” He confirmed anyway, nodding._

_Eddie rolled his eyes._

_“What?” Richie laughed, “You asked.”_

_“Yeah,” Another eye roll, “But you were_ supposed _to say something like ‘make me’ or something dumb like that!”_

_“Why would I say that?” Richie was confused now._

_“So I could kiss you and make you shut up, you dumbass!”_

_“Oh,” Richie’s cheeks heated again. “Well, you can still kiss me now. If you want to. I’ll even talk some more so that you can shut-,”_

_But Eddie had already leaned in, lips awkwardly pressing to Richie’s. It wasn’t good, per se. Their noses squished together and Richie’s mouth was half open and it was very little - but it was Eddie. So it was good._

_“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Because I do,” He wiggled his eyebrows when Eddie pulled away, earning a light punch on his shoulder. He could still feel the pink on his face._

He purses his lips, sitting on the edge of his bed. He glances out his window at the setting evening sun.

_There came a particular night after a long day spent by just the two of them. They’d gone out to breakfast at a diner and spent half of the day at the arcade, and the other half at the quarry._

_They were cuddled up in Eddie’s bed now, Eddie in Richie’s lap and Richie’s arm secured tightly around his waist as they finished the movie they were watching._

_Richie didn’t remember much - only the feeling he felt in that moment. They hadn’t said it yet, but he was so overwhelmed with love in this moment - his face half-buried in Eddie’s hair that smelled like his shampoo - that he couldn’t stop his stupid mouth from running._

_“Hey, Eds?” Richie blurted._

_“Hmm?” Eddie inquired, leaning his head back to look Richie in the eyes somewhat. Or try to. God, he was perfect._

_“I-,” Richie let out a half anxious, breathy laugh, before simply going for it. “I love you. Like, love you, love you.”_

_Eddie smiled softly, and Richie watched the skin under his faint freckles turn pink._

_“I love you, too, Rich.”_

_That was easy._

Richie lets out a long sigh, laying back in his bed finally. He knows what he has to do - and he will, he decides.

On Friday, at ten thirty sharp.

But Eddie doesn’t come to school on Friday - leaving Richie to wonder what’s going on with him the whole day long. Of course, the one day he needs it (to text Eddie, ask where he is, if he’s okay) he forgets his phone at home. Typical.

He isn’t sure if Eddie will come to his window as ten-thirty begins to roll around. But he waits there patiently nonetheless, trying to rehearse what he’s going to say.

Lo and behold, before he can get a solid grip on anything he wants to say - the ever familiar little knock is rapping on the glass beside him, and he’s opening the window for the small Eddie Kaspbrak to slip easliy through.

He watches Eddie dust himself off. “Hi.”

“Hey Eds,” Richie smiles dorkily, trying to distract himself, “Why don’t-cha take a seat?”

Eddie does so, but is crawling over to Richie and his mouth before Richie can get a word out. He pulls back - not because he doesn’t want to makeout with Eddie right now (because he would so much rather be doing that than what he’s about to do), but because this is something he has to do. Eddie lets him go and sits back.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, eyebrows knitted up in concern, “If this is about the other day- I don’t-,” He sighs before Richie cuts him off.

“No, no,” He says, scooching closer to the boy in front of him. Eddie’s face shows clear confusion. “I just- I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, lately, and I realized something. I just want to talk to you about it.”

“Okay, we can talk. I know things have been weird with us, not like- not like how they used to be, but you can still tell me anything.” The confusion has changed to support, and Richie feels like he can see the adoration in Eddie’s eyes. _God, he’s so perfect._

“Well, for starters,” Richie sighs, “You know that whole thing with Stan?”

Eddie nods.

“I hate to be wrong, but, he was- he was a rebound. I know, I know. That’s shitty - I don’t really have an excuse for it. He was just… He was there when no one else was. And he’ll always be my best friend for that, you know? But I don’t see him the way I see you.”

“A rebound?” Eddie repeats, “For me?” Hes obviously incredulous, mouth hanging open and eyes a bit wide.

“Who else would I need one for?” Richie laughs, somewhat.

“Wow,” Eddie nods, “I, uh, yeah. Is that all?”

“Uh, no,” Richie clears his throat, looking at his hands now. “I don’t really have an explanation for this - or for anything that’s happened in the past few weeks. It’s all been a lot,” He blows out a puff of air, filling up his cheeks.

Eddie nods again, encouraging him to continue.

“I think I- I think I love you, again. I don’t think I ever stopped. I think that’s why I couldn’t let go,” Richie tries hard to ignore the lump building in his throat, “I think that’s why it hurt so bad. It felt like everything I was afraid of.”

Eddie seems to understand what he’s talking about - biting his own lip. Richie continues.

“I don’t- I don’t want to do this anymore. I know I don’t, I don’t know about you. Seeing you with Andrew killed me, like, all the time,” He  manages to hiccup a laugh, “I guess- I guess I’m saying I want to get back together. I don’t know - this is all so confusing-,”

He watched a tear fall from Eddie’s cheek, and his hand was quickly there, by instinct, wiping it away. Richie waits for his response, and there’s quiet between them for a minute.

“I thought-,” Eddie breathes in heavily, and Richie thinks he might need his inhaler for a minute, “I thought I was never going to get you back, even as a friend. I’ve never regretted something so much in my life, Richie.” Richie’s eyes lock with his, and he doesn’t need to look very deep to see the sincerity or hear it in his voice. “I could’ve acted so much better through all of this - but seeing you with Stan so soon after me- I couldn’t control myself. I’m so sorry-,” He wasn’t sobbing or crying very hard, but his tears and the occasional voice cracks and sniffles were enough to make Richie’s heart hurt.

He pulled Eddie into him, them both sitting in an awkward hug position but enjoying each other anyway.

“Let’s stop being crybabies,” Richie laughs, blinking away his own tears and swallowing, “We probably look all dumb and gay.”

“We are dumb and gay.” Eddie laughs from under Richie as well, and pulls away. Richie rubs his thumbs under his eyes one last time.

Wordlessly, they get into bed - both knowing the other was tired in a subconscious agreement.

“Rich?” Eddie asks, hushed, in the darkness as he laid next to Richie, pulled in close. Richie feels his breath fan across his collar bones.

“Yeah?”

“What made you decide? To- To tell me everything, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Richie muses, licking his lips as a small smile forms on them, “I guess **I was** **just tired of falling asleep without you**.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi i hope everyone likes this so far!! whenever i write richie’s thoughts i think of that vine thats like “stop saying i look like chicken little! he’s stupid and he’s a coward, and i am not a coward!”
> 
> anyway ya this was already prewritten and i’ll be finishing chapter 2 tonight too! the chapters of this fic (rlly my second Official fic) wont be as long as my chapters of doodles - i’ll be aiming more for over 3.5k words but not more than 4k or 4.5k probably!
> 
> uhhh ya thats all lmk if you wanna be on the taglist! i dont hav a perma taglist yet but i wanna start one so lmk if u wanna be on that or on the taglist for just ‘it’s fine’ (this lol)


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